


The Art of Stalling

by greenishio, NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Astral Projection, Attempted Mind Control, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Tony Stark, Banter, Battle of Wits, Bickering, Board Games, Boredom, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Card Games, Coffee, Coffee Addict Tony Stark, Confinement, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Exhaustion, Faked Loyalty, Falling In Love, Feels, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Forbidden Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Humor, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kissing, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Lies, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Anguish, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pretending, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Threats of Violence, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lies, Understanding, stalling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenishio/pseuds/greenishio, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: When he touched his sceptre to Stark's chest, Loki expected to feel the connection form between his own mind and that of his latest minion– but, somehow, it didn't. So why then did Stark start acting as if he were under Loki's control?
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 329
Kudos: 1285
Collections: Fics that make my heart go OOF with fluff, Marvel, Works worth reading a million times over





	1. You're going to lose

**Author's Note:**

> This collab has been a few months in the making, and we're excited to finally be able to post it!  
>   
> And thank you **STARSdidathing** and **Rabentochter** for all the help with this one (including the summary, again xD ) ❤︎  
>   
> The amazing art is by **Greenishio** , though there won't be art every chapter. And the fic is by **NamelesslyNightlock.**

The moment the sceptre clinked against Stark’s chest, Loki knew that it had not worked. It wasn’t just that Stark’s eyes remained their natural brown rather than the same blue as all of the others he had thus far taken control of– he also couldn’t feel any trace of the connection that should have been formed. 

Loki’s first reaction was irritation as he went to try again– but then he paused as the reality of it hit him, and he was overcome with sudden shock. 

It didn’t make any sense, because it _should have_ worked. 

How… _how_ had the mortal resisted the power of the Mind Stone? 

Loki’s eyes darted to Stark’s once more, that impossible brown gleaming with something that Loki couldn’t quite read, but which seemed to mock nonetheless. 

But it appeared that Loki’s pause had given the mortal time to think, for not a moment passed before his expression cleared of all emotion, leaving only a blank slate. Loki frowned, but before he could say a single thing—

“You shouldn’t have put the portal over my tower.” 

It wasn’t an odd thing for Stark to say, not really. The mortal _had_ just spent a good chunk of time arguing that Loki’s plan was useless, after all. But his tone was different, not quite so hostile as when he had been issuing his _threat_. No, he almost sounded… curious. 

Loki’s frown deepened. 

“I don’t mean any offence,” Stark said quickly, as if he were backtracking. “I merely wish to point out that it was hardly the best spot you could have picked. Was there an actual reason why you chose to build it here?”

“Why should I tell you?” Loki hissed, shifting the sceptre in his hand. Perhaps Stark was somehow immune to the Mind Stone, but the sceptre still had a rather nasty blade– and if Stark proved immune to _that_ then Loki would eat the Mind Stone himself.

“Because I want to help.” Stark’s voice was earnest, a sudden change which… was not unlike that which the others under the sceptre’s command had displayed– but Loki _knew_ that his attempt at control had been unsuccessful, and that Stark was still his own man. “And because if you don’t change something about your plan, then… you’re going to lose.” 

At that, Loki froze, feeling something cold run up his spine. 

Stark wasn’t wrong– there were indeed an awful number of mistakes riddled through the plan, but the majority of them were there by design. Loki was far from unaware of them, but he certainly had not needed them advertised– because now that the truth had been uttered aloud, to continue as he was while _knowing_ that the plan was flawed would only come back to haunt him in the most painful of ways. 

Norns damn Stark for his words. With them and in only a few moments, he had cast Loki’s plans to _ruin_. 

Loki almost spat his next words at the mortal, his anger and fear cutting down any hope for civility. “ _Why_ do you want to help me?” 

Because despite the fact that the mortal was right, it did not make sense for him to be saying such things, or even to be acting this way at all. Oh, he’d tried to convince Loki of the futility of his attack earlier, citing the number of ‘mighty heroes’ the Avengers had on their roster, but this was something else. This was Stark giving Loki earnest advice, as if he had switched sides—

Something that was only proven correct when Stark said– “Because you’re right. I can see that now– I can see that you would make a better ruler than the mess of a government that’s currently running the country. You’re someone I would happily follow, and kneel for.” 

The words did not even sound like they pained Stark to say, and had he less control over his own expression, Loki’s eyes would have widened. 

Was Stark… _pretending_ to be under Loki’s control? 

The thought was almost laughable. Didn’t he realise that Loki would know– because how could he not, when there was no connection for him to control Stark through? How could he be incognisant of a person he was supposedly playing like a piece in a game?

Or perhaps Stark merely thought that the sceptre allowed influence rather than actual control, bending _will_ rather than _intention_. Loki supposed that was almost true, as the Stone did not make him a true puppeteer– but he was still aware of the connections. Even now he could feel Selvig on top of the tower– knocked out by Stark’s blast, but still an itch in the corner of Loki’s mind, along with all the other mortals he had taken under his control. It would require focus to see any of their actions clearly, and at the moment there was no need for that– but they were still there, and he would always be _aware_ of them. 

Just as the Other was aware of him. 

Usually, the thought of the Other’s presence was a thing easily put aside, because Loki was more than capable of carrying out his plan without doing a thing to arouse suspicion. After all, Loki was more than used to having someone watching his every move– and he would not give the Other a single reason to doubt his loyalties. But that did not mean that the eyes on the back of his neck were easily _forgotten_ , because the thought of being _controlled_ in such a way itched at his very being, like his bones were trying to crawl out from under his skin. 

It didn’t matter, though, it wasn’t important. He would be free of all his chains soon enough– and perhaps… he could use Stark’s ploy to his advantage. 

While Loki had been in thought, Stark had merely waited patiently– something Loki believed was likely rather out of character for him. Yet no nervousness showed in his expression, and he merely watched Loki with the kind of subservience Loki had once known from the servants in Asgard’s palace. Well, at least the ones who knew enough propriety not to laugh in his face. 

“Very well, Stark,” Loki said, lowering the sceptre a little in a show of faith. “Although, I must ask. Are you saying that my plan is a bad one?”

“I wouldn’t presume to suggest that you are _wrong,”_ Stark said quickly. “I am merely trying to help. If you continue as you are, then you’re going to lose. If you want to prevent that, you need to change a few things. Surely you can see that. Otherwise the Avengers are going to defeat you.” 

“The Avengers?” Loki asked, arching a brow and not bothering to hide his amusement. “Do you not still consider yourself to be one of them?”

“Should I?” Stark asked in return, tilting his head. “I mean, I guess I could be an inside man. If that’s what you want me to do, then sure, I’ll do it, but I think I’d be more use elsewhere.” He paused, and then added– “They don’t like me much.”

Loki almost smiled at that. _Clever_. But he kept his expression in check. “And where would you say you would be of most use?” he asked. 

“At your side,” Stark replied, confidence brimming in his tone, giving no evidence of any nervousness. “Maybe you’ve heard, but I’m actually pretty smart, for a human. I’d be more use using my mind than I would be out there fighting, or infiltrating.” He wrinkled his nose. “Subterfuge has never really been my style.” 

Well, Loki could have told him that. Even now, he wasn’t doing the best job. There was no denying that Stark was a skilled actor– even during their earlier conversation, there was no evidence of fear in his tone even though Loki _knew_ the man had to have been terrified. But while he _did_ appear an expert at covering the play of a certain emotion over his expression with another, it seemed that blanking his face and keeping emotions hidden entirely was not one of Stark’s talents.

But… the man’s proposal _was_ intriguing. 

Loki let his eyes wander over Stark’s face, considering his options. It wouldn’t hurt to follow along with this ruse. It had been his plan to use Stark as a distraction, to slow the so-called Avengers down just _enough_ for the destruction to spread, so that the Other would believe his attempts to take over the planet were genuine. But if Stark was only pretending, then… maybe there was another way that Loki could use this to his advantage. 

And besides, it wasn’t like he had much choice any longer, given that Stark had opened his big mouth and pointed out all of Loki’s carefully planned mistakes. 

“Very well,” he said again. “But in that case... what would you suggest?” The corners of Loki’s lips pulled into a sharp smile that he hoped would convince Stark he believed the ruse. “You claim that you are a genius, so prove it to me. Craft a plan that is better than my own.”

Something deadly flashed in Stark’s eyes, then, something that he had not been fast enough to hide. But he covered it well– and if Loki hadn’t expected there to be something to look for, perhaps even he would not have seen it. But asking this was something of a test– would Stark be able to hold his façade when he was actively asked to move against his own people? 

It was only a moment before Stark drew himself up to his full height, his chin tilting arrogantly. “Well, for starters, you shouldn’t have caused such a mess when you arrived, but I guess that was unavoidable. Did you know where you’d end up when you traveled through the Tesseract that first time?”

Loki merely waited, unimpressed. He’d asked for a plan, not more questions. 

“Right,” Stark said, appearing unmoved as he continued with his explanation. “Well, anyway, whether or not that mess at SHIELD could have been avoided, getting yourself caught in Stuttgart was pretty smart, though I’m guessing even that didn’t work quite as well as you hoped. But then you should have taken your portal somewhere else, somewhere that we wouldn’t have been able to get to in time. Hell, somewhere that I wouldn’t have guessed in two seconds. You practically told me where you’d be with your ‘light for all mankind’ schtick.” 

“The portal needs power, and I was told that your tower has the best source of energy in this nation,” Loki said simply– and then smirked as Stark visibly preened, even as the mortal shook his head.

“Nah, the best thing about the arc reactor is that it’s _clean_ energy,” Stark said. “You can’t honestly tell me that makes a difference, and you could have found something with a similar power output easy enough– although, I don’t understand why you needed the power in the first place. The Tesseract is what the arc reactor was based on, it _is_ a power source, more powerful than anything else we’ve ever seen. What would my arc reactor be able to add that it doesn’t already have?”

Loki raised his brows at that– the mortal was touching upon the power of the Infinity Stone, after all, and Loki had not expected him to notice.

“But even then,” Stark continued, taking no note of Loki’s reaction– and Loki couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the mortal was just losing himself in the explanation, not even caring who he was speaking it to. “You could have grabbed a generator, hooked it up somewhere in the middle of nowhere, opened up a larger portal and had the whole army spreading over the entire country before we even could have done a thing.” He paused again, and sighed. “Though I guess it’s all too late for that, now.” 

“Yes,” Loki agreed, his smirk widening. Yes, Stark was tearing his plan apart, but Loki was still hoping to work this in a direction which would be even more beneficial than the original. And if Stark was about to lay out the ‘plan’ that Loki hoped he was… “And now that has already come to pass, what would you suggest I do now?”

“You should close up shop,” Stark advised– and _now_ there was a touch of nervousness to him, though it was clear he was trying to play it off as the usual worry over giving a superior bad news, rather than concern that he was going to give himself away. “Cut your losses while you’re still ahead. The way I see it, you’ve already _lost_ this fight. Unless there’s something up there that you haven’t told us about yet which could tip the scales, then there isn’t any way that you’re going to win.” 

“Cut my losses?” Loki mused. “I suppose that is something that I could do.” 

Stark’s eyes widened, and a grin flashed over his lips for a moment before he was able to get his expression back under control. Watching the show was more entertainment than Loki’d had in the past three years, and he was already pleased with his decision. 

“May I ask you something?” Loki asked– half to see whether Stark would find it strange that Loki had _asked_ , and half out of honest curiosity.

“Anything,” Stark replied– so clearly not finding it odd, then. 

“What _did_ you mean when you said that you were threatening me? Do the Avengers have something else up their sleeve, or were you lying when you told me you weren’t stalling?”

“Well, I _was_ stalling,” Stark admitted. “A little, anyway. Mostly I just wanted to get a fresh suit, and since you were hanging out in my tower I knew that I was going to have to face you if I wanted to grab one. Um. Not that I, uh, don’t want you here. I would be happy to host you in my home.” He was stumbling over his words, now, and Loki had to refrain from rolling his eyes. “ _If_ you want to stay here, that is. While we come up with a better plan to take over the world. Obviously.”

“Of course. And I am sure that would be very pleasant,” Loki replied– and it was not even a lie. Stark Tower wasn’t anything as grand as Asgard’s palace, but it was far superior to anywhere Loki had stayed recently. But, unfortunately… “However, you told the Avengers where you were heading, correct? And even if you did not, what you said about the portal is correct– it is attracting attention even while we speak. We need to get somewhere safe.”

“We?” Stark asked, surprised. 

“You said you wished to stay by my side, did you not?” Loki arched a brow– and Stark’s expression hardened. 

“I did,” he said.

“Good. Then we will collect the Tesseract, and we will go.” 

Stark did not flinch as Loki approached and gripped the man’s arm, and Loki had to admit that he was almost impressed by that fact. He _did_ stiffen, however, as Loki’s seiðr curled around them, but he did not let go– and Loki pulled them through the branches of Yggdrasil, first to the roof to close the portal and collect the Tesseract, and then to somewhere far away. 


	2. Playing a long game

It wasn’t difficult to find a safe place. Loki had spent his whole life perfecting the art of avoidance, after all, and he knew the advantages of having a retreat planned in advance. So he had, of course, already located a possible refuge before he had even begun the mission. He hadn’t done any more than identify the place however, as he had been extremely doubtful as to its necessity– after all, if the invasion succeeded then he would be ruling Midgard as Thanos’ reluctant puppet, and if it failed then he would either be in Asgard’s cells… or dead. 

Thus due to his irresolution the place was lacking in food and necessities, but it was also unknown to any but him. He hadn’t shared it with Barton or any of the others, and therefore, there was very little chance that they would be followed. 

That was exceedingly fortunate, as Loki felt shattered, and he did not think he had the strength to put up any extra wards. Even using the Infinity Stones he carried would be too much for him to bear in his current state. 

The simple skywalk from New York City to the mountains a few hundred miles north was exhausting, but Loki at least managed to keep his feet when they landed. Stark, on the other hand, stumbled and swore, and Loki’s lips curved up into a smirk. 

“I guess you did have another trick up your sleeve, huh Reindeer Games?” Stark asked as he regained his footing. “Teleportation, really?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, and Stark paused as he realised his mistake. 

“Sorry,” he winced. “I, uh. I won’t call you that. If you don’t like it.”

Loki decided not to comment upon that. 

Barton and the other Midgardians had called him _boss_. He was curious to learn what Stark would choose, and didn’t want to prompt him into something. So, instead, he said– “I always have another trick up my sleeve. I suppose that’s something that you will come to learn.”

Stark did not look like he enjoyed the thought much, but pressed on with another apology regardless. “I guess I’m also sorry for implying that you’re bad at plans, if that’s how that came across,” he said. “If you can teleport… well, that changes a lot. You could have got out of that cell on the helicarrier anytime you wanted, couldn’t you?”

It would have been draining, far too much so to risk right before a battle, but Loki did not wish to admit as much. Instead, he focused on the problem at hand– because while he was sure they were safe enough, the lack of wards still rubbed at him like an irrelievable itch. 

“I’m sure there are people looking for you,” Loki said. “Do you carry anything traceable?” 

“Only my phone,” Stark replied, pulling the item from his pocket and holding it out. It was far slimmer than anything Loki had seen being used by any of the other Midgardians. “Only JARVIS is able to track me, though. I took precautions when I designed this.” 

Stark sounded sure, and Loki did not doubt him– it was clear that this was a play for trust, after all. But Loki did not know who that ‘Jarvis’ was, and he was not willing to take any risks, especially not considering the gamble he had made in leaving New York and abandoning his original plan. 

So he plucked the phone from Stark’s hands, and he crushed it in a clenched fist before vanishing the pieces entirely. 

Stark watched the movement with dull eyes before looking back up to Loki with a smile that was clearly false. “So,” he asked. “What now?”

“Now, I think I will rest,” Loki sighed, moving toward the couch. He tore away the dust cover with a quick tug, and then fell onto the cushions with a groan. The leather was soft and comfortable, and Loki congratulated himself on the good choice of refuge. 

The building, as Loki understood it from his quick research, was used as a holiday home during the winter months. As it was currently mid spring on this part of the planet, the place had been recently left empty, and would remain so for some months before the owners returned for the snow. 

It meant that the place was furnished and not yet musty, and made for a large and comfortable haven from the pain Loki had, hopefully, left behind. It also meant that it was, as he’d thought before, lacking in necessities, and so they would need to leave to procure some relatively soon. 

Well, _Loki_ didn’t need to do that. He had a willing servant now, didn’t he? 

If Stark wanted to pretend to be in Loki’s thrall, then. Let him pretend. 

Loki heard the shuffle of feet over the floor and the shift of another dust cover, and he opened his eyes to stare at where Stark was making himself comfortable on one of the armchairs. 

“What are you doing?” Loki asked, lacing his tone with bemusement. 

“You said that we could rest,” Stark answered flatly. “So I’m _resting.”_

“I don’t think so,” Loki replied.

Stark’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not the only one who’s had a big day, you know.”

“I know,” Loki said, and he was exhausted enough that it didn’t take much to keep from smiling. “I suppose that you might be tired. Are you hungry as well?”

“Starving,” Stark admitted. “I don’t think I’ve eaten in… two? Nah, three days. Well, apart from a smoothie from DUM-E– oh, and a few snacks that insane bot gave me. Honestly, I think it’s JARVIS’ fault, he knows I can't resist that look DUM-E gives me. You would not _believe_ the number of blueberries I’ve eaten in the past week.”

Loki arched a brow at that, and Stark winced. 

“Sorry,” he said, lowering his gaze. Loki got the impression that he would either need to grow used to the rambles and tell Stark they were acceptable, or he would have to put up with a lot of apologies. He was not sure which he would find the most irritating– but either way, he _was_ rather sure that there would be no stopping them. 

For now, Loki decided to ignore the problem entirely. 

“There is no food in this house,” he said simply. 

“Oh,” said Stark. “Well. You could go to a store. There has to be one around here, right? Do you know what a store is? Do they have stores where you’re from?”

“Of course they do,” Loki replied. “But I am a prince of Asgard—”

“You’re a _prince?”_

“Did Thor not tell you?” Loki asked, surprised. “Well, I suppose he assumed that you already knew. But as such, I did not purchase things for myself, save for if I needed a weapon or a specific trinket for a spell.”

“Ooh so it is magic that you do, then?” Stark asked curiously—

“Stark!” Loki snapped. “If you do not wish to starve, then you will need to _focus–_ and go to the store to get us some food.”

“ _Me?”_ Stark asked, his eyes wide. 

“Yes, _you_. I just told you that I do not do these things myself.” 

“But I don’t even know what you want me to—”

“Go to the town,” Loki said slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child. “There is sure to be one not far from here. Buy us some food. And, I suppose, whatever else we will need to live here. You are the one who suggested going to a store.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t– I haven’t even got any money,” Stark said, sounding almost horrified by that fact. “We can’t use mine. I’ve got a card on me, but if I use it SHIELD’ll be able to find us and they’ll be on us in a second. And I’m guessing that’s not something you want.” 

Well, would you look at that. Even in the middle of an argument, Stark was once again volunteering information that would _help_. He really was playing a long game, wasn’t he?

Still, Loki had to concede that the mortal had a point– but that didn’t mean that it got Stark off the hook. 

He sat up a little straighter and cupped his hands in front of him, closing his eyes and falling into a deep focus. He had to concentrate for a long while, picturing exactly what he wanted in his mind’s eye. He could not create any money– while he had seen Midgardian money before, he knew that the design was overly complicated, and he could not risk getting it wrong. So instead, he imagined something else—

And when he opened his eyes and held out his hands, there was a thin chain coiled in his palm, attached to a charm of a heavy emerald set in pure gold. 

“There,” Loki said. “Will that do?”

Stark’s mouth was actually open as he stared down at the jewellery, and his jaw snapped shut as he glanced back up to meet Loki’s gaze. “Did you just make a gold necklace and a freaking _emerald_ out of nothing?” he asked. 

“Well, no,” Loki admitted. “Creation like that is near impossible, and very draining. I had a piece of string and a small coin in one of my pockets, and I merely transformed them into this.” He offered a haughty smile, hoping it would cover up the wave of tiredness that crashed over him after the magic. “I am rather skilled at transformations, if I might say so myself.” 

“Yeah, it seems like it,” Stark replied. “That you can just make jewellery out of string… that’s insane.”

“Excuse me?” Loki asked sharply. He was used to having his seiðr insulted, but he would not stand for it when the insults were coming from a _mortal_. But then—

“I mean, it’s incredible. You’re completely disrupting the laws of physics. Well, I guess not entirely– it fits in with the idea that things cannot be destroyed or created, only transformed– or hey, you said it was _near_ impossible, so _can_ you create something out of nothing? Or is that—”

“You certainly ask a lot of questions,” Loki observed, trying not to let the fact that Stark actually seemed interested in his magic get to him. Stark was only doing it to get on his good side, after all. 

“Sorry,” Stark winced. “I didn’t mean—”

“You can make it up to me by _going to the store,”_ Loki said firmly. “I am _still_ hungry. Will this suffice as payment?”

“Well, we don’t really trade for stuff here but if I can find a pawn shop, then yeah,” Stark said. “But I don’t know where the town is. Like I said, I don’t even know where _we_ are.”

“Don’t Midgardians have a method of finding their way around their own planet?”

“Well, I could have Googled it if you hadn’t crushed my phone—”

“You’re a smart man,” Loki cut in. “I’m sure you’ll work it out. And we need food.” He paused then, and pinned Stark with a hard stare. “Are you truly going to argue with me on this?”

_Thankfully_ , that was enough of a prompt to shut the mortal up, though there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he said, “As you wish, my god.” 

Loki froze. 

_My god._

He... couldn’t think of a moment when anyone had ever called him that. He had, of course, been labelled as such by the Norsemen along with the rest of his kin, but while the mortals of old had lauded his brother and father and even the lesser Aesir such as Tyr and– and even _Baldur,_ Loki had been treated as the worst of the lot, just because Thor and his friends had spread a few rumours about a horse and a goat. 

The humans had not worshipped him as they had all the others, and in modern times even the rest of the Aesir were barely remembered at all, save for in stories told to children. 

So for Stark to call him such now… well, Loki couldn’t quite articulate how it made him feel, but it definitely made him want to smite the mortal a little less than he had before. 

By the time Loki put his thoughts back in order, Stark had already left the room. Deciding to take the opportunity to actually do what he said he would, Loki leaned back against the couch, feeling every ache in his body a hundred-fold. He had been running on adrenaline for days, and even though he had managed _some_ rest while Selvig had worked out what he needed to build the portal, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper night’s sleep. 

Had it been all the way back on Asgard, before Thor’s fatefully interrupted coronation– before his life had fallen apart before his eyes? But even then he had been plagued with nightmares, of worries of what was to come, and the last time Loki had slept through the night must have been weeks before that. But sleep _with_ nightmares, sleep that still left him feeling somewhat rested– oh the last time he’d had that would be in the early days he had spent with Thanos. 

It hadn’t been too bad at first, while he was a passenger on Sanctuary II. They had plucked him from bleak nothingness that had felt eternal, a void in which Loki had no doubt that he would have remained for millennia had Thanos and the Other not come to his aid. They gave him a place to rest and wash, as well as warm food and an offer of _purpose_. Loki had felt so lost after all that had happened that any place to belong felt better than nothing. 

And in the beginning, they only said that they wished for his company. At first, Loki had been too broken and too in need of help to argue– and by the time he realised _exactly_ what it was that Thanos was trying to do, he was already in too deep to be able to safely back out. 

But he knew that he had to try, because the thought of what was to come was too awful for even Loki – even after everything he’d done and seen – to contemplate. 

Half of all the universe, wiped out forever. 

Loki, of course, had known the dangers of an open promise and had never so much as hinted that he owed Thanos a thing, but it was clear that his host believed so anyway. And when Loki attempted to offer his polite thanks and indicated that he was planning to leave… 

Well.

As it turns out… one does not simply say _no_ to the Mad Titan– and Loki was taught why. 

Thanos didn’t attend to Loki himself– oh no, Loki was not important enough to be granted that honour. But he was given careful treatment by Chitauri torturers, who kept to no set schedule and came in to have some _fun_ whenever they wished, leaving Loki unable to ever relax for fear of them charging in at any moment. The Other was there for the more intricate work, for making sure Loki _understood_ what was done to those who defied him. There were a _few_ moments of respite from the torture, moments where they put Loki back together again, once more offered him a meal and a bed. Loki accepted every time, because he would not turn down a chance to recuperate– but then they would ask him ever so _nicely_ whether he would work with them again, and upon an attempt at refusal, or even an attempt to lower Thanos’ plans to a more palatable number (if indeed there was such a thing) Loki was taken right back into his worst nightmares. 

But he had always been a fast learner, and it was not long before he agreed to help Thanos reach his goal. He had already revealed the location of the Tesseract in an attempt to bargain after his first round of pain– but the Titan wanted more from him. 

As Loki listened to the plan to retrieve the Space Stone, he knew that it, at least, was something that he would be able to go through with. Only mortals would be hurt after all, and by staying in Midgard afterward – if he succeeded – to rule the humans, Loki would be free not only from the torture, but able to live separate from Odin and Thor as well. 

But Loki knew he could do better than simply _cooperating_ , and giving in left a sour taste in his mouth. So, instead, he had merely bided his time, listened to the orders and formed his own plan. He showed Thanos that he was _more_ than willing to do what was required, that despite the pain he had survived, he was loyal to Thanos above everyone else– including, of course, himself. 

The Other remained hostile, but Thanos appeared pleased with Loki’s progress, and things began moving more swiftly. 

Thanos, of course, did make sure Loki was given one more test of his loyalty before the final move toward the Tesseract– putting him through such awful pain that the temptation to give in was _tantalising_. At the end, Loki was left shaking and sweating, his whole body aching, but he still knelt down on one knee and held out his hands– and as Thanos placed the sceptre into them, he was swept through the portal and onto Midgard. 

His plan had worked– and while he was still being watched, Loki was trusted enough that he had been allowed to create his own strategy to take over Midgard. He would _not_ let Thanos win, not after everything that had been done to him– and while he didn’t care for the mortals, he knew he would be able to use a few of them to meet his own purpose. Thor arriving was an added bonus that Loki had not counted on, but had _hoped_ for. Because Asgard’s cells, at least, would provide some safety from the retribution promised by the Other, and they were preferable to the pain and imprisonment that awaited him at the hands of his once rescuers. Not ideal, but… _better._ He would have been able to live with it, especially with the knowledge that he was there because he had _won_ against the Mad Titan. 

But then Stark had appeared, and had pretended to be in Loki’s thrall. _That_ had supplied an alternative, because with Stark pointing out all the flaws, Loki could not continue lest the Other _know_ he was trying to fail– and that would be worse than a last-minute change in the plan. Even now, Loki knew that the Other was not entirely angry. If he were, he would have called Loki to him once more– and in this instance, the silence was more comforting than a summons. 

It did not, however, mean that Loki had all the time in the world, and the Other was bound to want to see progress soon. So, with that thought in mind, Loki sighed, and forced himself up from his seat. 

In the time Loki had been lost in his thoughts Stark could have been long gone, and this all could have been for naught. Loki doubted it, however– Stark would likely not think he had learned enough by now to make his deception worth it. Still, Loki needed to see what he was up to, if only for his own peace of mind. 

It was only the work of a moment to find him, and although Stark was not far, Loki still felt a little out of breath as he stepped into the store. Stark, it seemed, had found a vehicle in the garage along with a map, and had made it to the nearest town with little difficulty. He must have already exchanged the necklace for coin, as he was holding a basket containing food and other needed items, such as soap.

Loki, concealed into invisibility with his seiðr, was able to watch unnoticed as the man’s gaze lingered on a shelf full of cheap phones, his eyes following the lines of writing on the packaging. Loki wondered whether Stark would buy one, and half expected that he would, for it would be a good method of communicating with his teammates. It was even likely that he would be able to keep it from Loki– if Loki had not already known about it, of course. 

But then Stark turned back toward the food aisles, and left the phones alone. 

Loki was surprised by it, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether Stark was making this up as he went, as Loki had originally thought– or whether he actually had a plan. 

Loki stayed with Stark for a while longer, but the mortal did not do anything suspicious. There was a moment when he reached the counter to pay for his goods where Loki held his breath, because the cashier frowned at Stark as if she recognised him.

“You know, you look a lot like—”

“Christian Bale?” Stark cut in. “Yeah, I get that a lot. I think it’s the beard.” 

The cashier raised her brows and twisted her lips in that universal expression for _‘yeah, sure buddy’_ , and then continued on scanning Stark’s items. 

After that, Stark went back to his vehicle, and Loki went back to the cabin. 

The skywalking took a lot out of him, and when he arrived back he collapsed onto the couch and did not move, feeling like his limbs were made of lead. He still had not moved an inch by the time Stark walked back inside.

Stark paused beside the couch, and Loki could _feel_ the judgemental stare. “You look like the dead,” he announced. 

“Leave me be,” Loki groaned. “Taking over a planet is hard work.” 

“ _Trying_ to take over a planet, you mean,” Stark muttered. 

Loki pressed his lips together, though even he wasn’t sure if it was out of irritation or amusement. Was Stark even trying to pretend anymore, or did he simply believe Loki to be deaf?

Or perhaps the mortal was simply too tired to care, for he reached into the bags and pulled out a snack before tossing the whole lot at Loki’s feet. Then, food in hand, he moved toward the stairs on the other side of the room, likely going to find a place to sleep. 

Loki did not bother trying to stop him, and merely leaned down to get some food for himself, hoping that sustenance and rest would help to clear his head, and that he would then be able to come up with a new strategy.

But, regardless of how this all played out... it would seem that Loki was, at the very least, in for a rather interesting next few days.


	3. Less than a pawn

Had Loki said he thought that the days with Stark were going to be interesting?

Oh no. 

It took less than a couple of hours for Loki to be sure that it was going to be the single most _boring_ experience of his _life_. 

It wasn’t that Stark was terrible company– Loki had learned minutes into their meeting that the mortal had a tongue sharp enough to rival Loki’s own, and under different circumstances he would have enjoyed such conversation. But, unfortunately, it seemed that after a night of contemplating what he had got himself into, Stark had decided to put more effort into his charade.

Over the following 48 hours, Stark was all demure smiles and meek agreement. And oh, it wasn’t that he turned completely docile– if there was one thing Loki could admire about Stark, it was that his stubbornness and tenacity shone through even his most thorough attempts to be subservient. It was rather clear that Stark didn’t know _how_ to do what he was told, no matter how hard he tried. 

But he _was_ trying, and even though Loki could see the frustration and knew exactly how close Stark was to gnashing his teeth and snapping back at every order, he mostly managed to keep himself under wraps– certainly doing a better job of it than Thor would have managed, had he been in the same position.

And without the arguing and the sass that he had dealt with on that first afternoon… yes, Loki was _bored._

So, he took the only route that was truly left open to him, and decided to see exactly what it would take to make Stark snap. Because what else was he supposed to do to entertain himself while they were holed up together?

And, oh, yes, of course Loki knew that the situation was incredibly serious. He was not unaware of _why_ they had decided to hide, and he knew that they needed to be actively working toward a plan lest The Other realise that something was wrong. 

For that, however, they needed to know where they stood, and if there was anything left of the old plan that they would be able to salvage. It was Stark’s idea to rummage through the garage and pull out a few old tools so that he could ‘fix’ the television. Loki was rather sure that there had been nothing wrong with the television, and he was _completely_ sure that Stark was only stalling, but since Loki was rather hoping to stall himself he saw no reason to bring either of those things up. 

Once Stark had ‘managed’ to connect the TV, they were able to learn what the world thought was going on. The News stations were reporting the events in New York as if they were over, the world reeling with the sudden confirmation that they were not alone in the universe. Loki had been rather surprised by that, especially when Stark had explained that many humans did not believe in the existence of aliens. Thankfully, though, Stark seemed to find their disbelief as equally ridiculous as Loki did. 

But then, as the days passed, more and more stations began to report the Incident as a _hoax_. Stark seemed to find that especially amusing, though in a wry kind of way which had Loki more curious than anything. 

While Midgard speculated, Loki and Stark spent the time discussing _new_ plans, coming up with idea after idea of how they would be able to make their next move. They considered Stark’s original notion of reopening the portal over somewhere open and less populated– and then they considered the exact opposite, opening it over the home of a world leader or the base of military operations for the country they were currently hiding in. 

Of course, no plan they spoke aloud was anywhere near feasible, and every single idea was either scrapped immediately or carefully noted down to be ‘considered later’– see: entirely ignored, unless it could be used to make something else overly complicated and in need of far more time to muddle out. 

They _were_ both stalling, after all– Stark, likely in order to give his friends more time to rally their forces– and Loki simply because he wanted to put off his fate as long as he possibly could. 

But living together in that cabin, as large and spacious as it was, was hardly the kind of environment that either of them were able to thrive in. Loki had no doubts that if Stark weren’t doing his _best_ to be nice, they would be at each other’s throats far more than they were. Even with that, they were still beginning to crack after only a few days. 

And… while Loki was taking the time to recover and recuperate, Stark began to look _worse_. His skin grew pale and his fingers would twitch when he was stressed, which seemed to be rather a lot of the time. And by the third afternoon, Stark looked absolutely _wrecked_. He had been stumbling around the cabin since that morning with the look of the dead about him, his skin a little pale and his eyes strangely distant. 

And after Stark had been staring at the wall for a solid twenty minutes instead of answering Loki’s questions about the kinds of security in his nation’s capital city, Loki knew that he was going to have to ask. He didn’t want to risk that there was something wrong with the mortal, something that would be difficult to fix the longer it was left. 

“Stark,” he said loudly. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing,” Stark mumbled. “It’s fine.” 

“This is not fine,” Loki said harshly. It wasn’t that he cared, of course, it was just that– “You will be of no use to me if you collapse before any of our plans have come into fruition.” 

“I told you, it’s fine,” Stark shot back– and it was the return to the argumentative state he had been in at the beginning of all this that had Loki truly concerned. 

Stark had been tired that first day, _exhausted_ , and injured from his ordeal inside the helicarrier’s engine. He had been remarkably apt at hiding his pain, but Loki had still been able to see it in the harsh lines of his movements, and the way that he would hesitate before doing anything too strenuous. If Loki had to guess, he would say that Stark still bore bruises, though over the following days his careful attitude had proven that he was feeling a little better—

But then, it had started to go downhill. 

“I know that there is something wrong,” Loki said, his voice picking up a touch of warning. “And if you think that you can _lie_ to me—” 

“It’s not that I’m lying, it’s just that it’s… stupid,” Stark muttered. 

“If it is affecting you like this then it is certainly not—”

“I just haven’t had– I haven’t had a coffee in days,” Stark said, his words sharp and quick despite the slight stutter. “I need the caffeine. I drink so much of it normally that when I go this long without it, it just leaves me a little jittery– and with a killer headache. That’s _all_.” 

Stark held Loki’s gaze with enough confidence that Loki was inclined to believe him. And besides, caffeine was not something limited only to the Midgardians– Loki knew very well what it was. Although, unless it affected Midgardians differently to other species Loki had seen, then Stark must consume an awful lot of it to be in such a state now. 

“I am guessing that we do not have any coffee in the kitchen,” Loki said. 

“Nope,” Stark said. “Not a single bean.” 

“Then you will need to return to the store,” Loki said simply, trying not to smirk. 

“Of course I will,” Stark muttered– though by the time Loki turned to look at him, his expression was entirely angelic. Shame. Although… perhaps this could be an opportunity for Loki to push, to see how far he would be able to go before Stark’s charade _truly_ broke.

It really had been a boring few days, you know. 

“Do you need any more funds?” Loki asked. 

“Probably, yeah, I’ve only got about ten bucks left,” Stark said, digging in his pocket and pulling out the crumpled bill in question. “Although, the pawn shop guy is probably going to think I’m some kind of thief if I keep going in with expensive jewellery, you know?”

Loki frowned. He might not know all that much about mortal currency, but he was _sure_ that the necklace should have bought them far more than that– and yet he knew that Stark had not bought any more than he said that he had, because Loki had been _watching_. 

Stark seemed to pick up on what he was thinking, and pulled a face. “Look, you can’t just take something like that into a pawnshop and not get asked questions,” he said. “I was trying to hide my face, so I looked pretty shady already, and I figured that you could just make us something else to get more money. It’s not like either of us are short for cash. Well, not usually anyway.”

Loki was already half grinning in victory by the Stark had finished, the frown long since gone. 

“I don’t mean any offence,” Stark said quickly, though he looked a little confused by Loki’s reaction. “You’re not… mad, are you?”

“You apologise like that a lot,” Loki commented, arching a brow. “Perhaps, I should be offended more often?” 

Stark looked like he was _about_ to explode at that– but, unfortunately, he managed to hold himself together. 

Trying not to feel too disappointed, Loki held out his hand, and Stark placed the money into his palm without needing to be told to do so. From there, it was a simple matter for Loki to duplicate it several times, until the single note had grown into a solid stack. 

Stark’s eyes were wide, and Loki could see the way that he was _burning_ to ask a question about the seiðr– but, _unfortunately_ , he reeled himself in at the last moment, and the question was one that related to what Loki needed him to do. 

“Is this going to get me caught for forgery?” he asked warily, taking the stack from Loki and flipping through it. “I mean, I’m sure you’d find that amusing, my god, but it would be rather counterproductive.”

“They are all perfect copies,” Loki replied haughtily. “If the one you gave me is real, then all of the others will be, as well.” 

“Right,” Stark replied. “Except, that means… yeah, look. The serial numbers are all the same. If I try and use these I will _definitely_ get caught—”

“Would you mind if you did?” Loki asked curiously, not able to help himself. 

“What sort of a question is that?” Stark asked, almost sounding insulted. “Arrested by some back-water cop in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, for forgery, of all things? Can you imagine the headlines? _Tony Stark,_ arrested for _forgery?_ Please.” 

“Then you’ll use them?” Loki asked, amused. 

Stark frowned. “You didn’t answer the question. _Are_ they going to get me arrested?”

“ _No,”_ Loki said. “Give them here.” 

When Stark handed the stack back over, Loki held it close to his face so he could examine it properly. He could see the small numbers written in green on the bills, and it hardly took any effort at all to change them. He altered them just slightly, so that they were both different enough from the original but also not so far apart as to be too high or too low for the numbering system, whatever that may be. 

Then the stack changed hands once more, and Stark rifled through the pile again. 

Loki was half expecting him to continue complaining, saying that using all the same money with the same man depicted on the front would also be suspicious, but Stark remained silent.

“Will that do?” Loki prompted. 

“You know, if you really want to take over the world, you definitely don’t need an army to do it,” Stark said, sounding more than half distracted. 

Loki’s lips curled, though this time, they didn’t form a smile. “The army is not just for taking over the world,” he said. “It is not just for _me_. _”_

Something flashed in Stark’s gaze at that, and Loki wasn’t sure whether he hoped Stark had begun to work it out or not. He wasn’t even sure why he had said it. Stark was even less than a pawn in the game that Loki was currently playing– he was but a tool, a means of drawing Loki’s moment of respite out a little bit longer. 

Loki sighed. “Will that money be enough?” he asked again. 

“Yes,” Stark replied. “Thank you. I mean. It might be a _little_ bit suspicious that the serial numbers are all sequential—” 

“Stark,” Loki said with a sigh that bordered on fond. “You are arguing with me again.”

“ _Sorry,_ my god. It was not meant in—”

“No, no, I do not mind you speaking up on such matters. If you are truly worried about this, then I would rather you say so than head into it quietly. Your ability to improve upon my plans _was_ the entire reason for you being here, was it not?” Loki asked. 

“I _guess?”_ Stark looked even more confused than before, and Loki might have been enjoying himself just a little too much. 

“Then if you think there is something wrong, you must say so,” Loki said firmly. “And if you believe that there is reason to be worried for your safety at the store, then I shall go with you.”

“What?” Stark yelped. “You mean that you’re going to—” Stark cut himself off as he caught sight of Loki’s expression, though it looked like it pained him to do so. “ _Fine_. As you wish, my god.” 

Loki was well aware that Stark’s use of ‘god’ was not meant to be reverent. He could hear the sarcasm no matter if Stark was trying to hide it– although, to be honest, Loki often gained the impression that Stark was not trying particularly hard on that count at all. He knew that it was said only in a prickly and reluctant attempt to keep up the charade. 

But, it still lifted his spirits every time he heard it, if only because it was a reminder that even if this attempt were to go horribly wrong, he would still be remembered at the end of it. (Even if the legends of the Norsemen were not the most flattering to his character, they certainly were still better than the _nothing at all_ that was thought of most others after their death.) 

Stark led the way to the garage, picking up a set of keys from the kitchen bench as they passed. 

The vehicle was nothing special– it was large and clearly made for driving during icy conditions, as well as appearing to be rather well-used. But, it suited their purposes. 

Stark paused as they reached it. “Do you want to drive?” he asked, his voice stiff.

Loki snorted. “Do you wish to be killed?”

That must have caught Stark off guard, for the mortal actually barked an incredulous laugh, and as they climbed into their respective sides of the car he asked– “You’re that bad at driving, huh?”

“I’ll have you know that I am an excellent driver,” Loki said, copying Stark’s movements and clipping what seemed to be some kind of safety belt into place. “Far better than Thor, in case you were wondering. But I do not know the traffic laws of your people, and while I could avoid a collision I believe the ways that I would do so would likely attract a little attention.”

“Right,” Stark said, turning the key and beginning to guide the car out of the garage. “You know, I’ve never seen Thor drive, but I know enough people with siblings to understand that comment was probably a lie—”

“I would never lie about such things,” Loki said, tone purposefully haughty. “My piloting skills are the envy of the Nine.”

“Oh?” Stark asked. “Then you’re going to drive on the way back, at least the second half. You can’t say something like that and then not prove it.” 

“Was that an order, Stark?” Loki asked sweetly.

Stark paused, and he seemed to turn that over in his mind for a moment. “Am I going to get in trouble if it was?” he asked. 

Loki rolled his eyes. “If I wanted a mindless slave, I could have as many as I desired with a flick of my fingers and a simple push of the Mind Stone,” Loki said. “That is not what I wanted from you. Just stand by my side, do not betray me, and follow the orders that _I_ give you– and then you need not fear that you’ll fall from my good graces.” 

“So… you don’t mind if I order you around then?” Stark asked. 

“Oh, I _mind_ ,” Loki replied, baring his teeth. “I might not kill you for it, but I can promise that you will likely come to regret it.” 

“Regret it how?” Stark asked, glancing to Loki out of the corner of his eye. 

Loki lowered his voice as he gave his answer. “If you want to find out, then you know what you need to do.” 

Stark kept his eyes solidly on the road after that– which meant that Loki did not need to hide his smile. 

He was going to win this challenge that he had set himself, he knew it. 

—•—

The trip to the store was rather uneventful, in the end. 

Loki had cast a simple illusion over them both so that they were unrecognisable– after all, the last time Stark had the added benefit of the fact that he had been spotted in New York City that same day, and therefore his presence here would have been easy to disprove. But if he were recognised again, however… well, it would certainly put a damper on their attempts to retain a low profile. On top of that was the fact that Loki’s face had been broadcast over the news due to what he had done in Stuttgart, and the pair of them together would certainly cause a scene. 

With the illusion, however, they looked just like ordinary people, and no one even turned for a second glance. Anonymity was, Loki often found, something of a gift at times, even if it could be rather demoralising to hold on to over long periods. 

He and Stark hardly even spoke to each other, save for if Loki asked for clarification on what a particular item was– not to question those that Stark had put into the basket, but generally more so he could decide whether he would like to eat something himself. And Stark did grumble loudly as he picked up some ‘instant’ coffee off the shelf, bemoaning the lack of a coffee machine in the cabin. Loki merely hid his smile. 

Thankfully – even though Loki had _known_ that there would be nothing for them to worry about – their stack of ten dollar bills was hardly given a second glance as they paid, and before they knew it they were heading back to the car. 

It had been a successful trip– simple and certainly fruitful, going by the number of bags Loki was forced to balance in his arms, since Stark seemed to be unable to carry them all himself. But then, just as they were leaving the grocery store, they walked past a shop front that caught Stark’s gaze. Loki would have simply continued walking, but the look in Stark’s gaze held a kind of longing that made him pause and turn to follow the mortal’s line of sight. 

_Oh_. 

It was a liquor store, and although the windows were blacked out with posters of the kinds of brands they sold, the door was open enough that they could see the shelves of bottles inside. 

And the way that Stark was staring made it clear that it was not just his caffeine that he had been missing these past few days. 

The last drink Stark must have had would be the one he’d nursed while ‘threatening’ Loki in his penthouse, and he had no doubt been rather stressed, living with his enemy over the past few days. Yet Stark had said nothing about it, had given no indication– at least, none other than his change of demeanour that morning. And although Loki had not been intending to say a thing, he found that he could not help but give the offer. 

“Did you want to buy something from there?” he asked. 

“What?” Stark asked, his gaze snapping to Loki’s in surprise– though Loki guessed that was more likely to be because Stark had not heard than in reaction to his words. 

“Did you want to buy a drink?” Loki asked again. “You did offer me one, after all.”

Stark paused, and for a moment he seemed to consider it. Loki was expecting that he’d take the offer, because he was clearly craving the alcohol– but then Stark shook his head. 

“I think I’ll be fine.” 

Loki was honestly surprised by that, and he wondered at Stark’s reasoning– but he did not let that show. Instead, he merely shrugged, and then led the way back to the car. 

As he did so, he wondered whether it had been such a good idea to turn his back on Stark, but when he turned to glance over his shoulder it was to find the mortal following without complaint. And as they loaded their purchases into the car and headed back to the cabin, Loki realised that despite Stark’s mood, despite the way that Loki had been treating him, and despite ample opportunity– there had not been a single moment on the whole trip when Stark had looked as if he were thinking of leaving, or of trying to contact his friends. 

And somehow… that seemed more surprising than anything else that had happened since they had left New York.


	4. Something of a talent

As the days passed the mark where they could say they had been hiding for weeks, Loki and Stark began to fall into something of a comfortable companionship. They were able to talk to each other with minimal strain – mostly due to the fact that Loki tried to avoid giving Stark a direct order – and they also sparked several more battles of wit between them, something that Loki rather enjoyed, and which he believed Stark enjoyed as well. 

Stark’s attitude toward the situation even seemed to improve with time, but it was clear that he was still missing everything that he had given up in order to play the hero and stall Loki’s plan. And while Loki could not give Stark back his friends, or his AI, or his workshop, there was one thing that Loki _could_ help Stark get– and he found himself waking up early one morning specifically for the task. 

He didn’t entirely understand _why_ he felt the urge to do anything at all, since he wasn’t beholden to Stark in any way. The mortal had got _himself_ into this, without any prompting or influence. Yet… Loki felt something of a responsibility for the mess that Stark had found himself in. 

Perhaps it was just that as he came to know Stark better, he began to realise what a waste it would have been, had the sceptre done its job and taken over his mind. Because even through Stark’s charade, Loki could see that the man was _brilliant._ On top of that it was clear that he didn’t like being caged just the same as Loki didn’t, and he was rather adept at coming up with… _interesting_ ways to keep himself entertained. 

(Though if he blew up another kitchen appliance, Loki would not be held liable for the injuries Stark would obtain in the aftermath.)

But it seemed like the more Loki came to see Stark as his own person, the more he realised that actually, they were not all that different after all– and the more difficulty Loki began to have when he thought about resuming the plan. 

Originally, he hadn’t minded that Midgard would be caught in the crossfire, but… well, it wasn’t even that he wondered if there were other humans like Stark, or anything along those lines. He hadn’t suddenly developed an empathy for mortals as a whole, he just… he just liked _this one,_ and he _didn’t_ like the thought of causing Stark pain in order to save himself. 

Of course, that didn’t mean that he was going to abandon his plan entirely– he was in too deep for that, and he would _not_ submit himself to Thanos ever again. But perhaps, his desire to fall in with Stark’s ideas and come up with something a little less damaging increased. 

So… yes, perhaps Loki had started to become a little softer where Stark was concerned, but he simply chose not to examine the _why_ too closely. He enjoyed the man’s company, and that was that. 

But that didn’t extend to bringing the man the thing that his body was craving the _most_. Loki had decided to be nice, but not _that_ nice– so he would bring Stark his second choice. 

Of course, the fact that alcohol was both something Stark had explicitly refused _and_ something that would be worse for him were not at all reasons for Loki’s decision. Alcohol would make him worse company– _that_ was something Loki knew from experience. And _that_ was what he told himself as an excuse for this behaviour. Make Stark more cheerful and therefore more fun to be around, while still holding back? Yes, Loki knew _exactly_ what he was doing. 

So, there he was, waking up early one morn, shifting his appearance into something unrecognisable, and then skywalking to New York with a pocketful of Stark’s Midgardian dollars. 

And by the time Stark woke and made his way down to the main floor of the cabin, Loki was waiting for him with a disposable cardboard cup in his hands. 

“Good morning, Stark,” Loki said, holding the beverage before him like some kind of peace offering– even though it most certainly _wasn’t_. “I have procured you a gift.” 

Stark took it, but he didn’t drink. He merely stared at it suspiciously as he asked, “What is this?”

“This is called a ‘cappuccino’,” Loki said. “I thought you might like it.” 

Stark’s eyes widened almost comically as he looked up to meet Loki’s gaze. “You bought me a _cappuccino?”_ he asked, sounding incredibly confused. 

“Yes,” Loki said. He suddenly felt a little unsure about his actions, though he couldn’t entirely say _why_. “If it is not to your taste, there are other cups in the kitchen. I was not aware that there were so many choices, and I did not know which you would prefer, so I brought back a selection.”

“Brought back,” Stark echoed weakly, looking back down and tilting up the cup to look at the logo printed on the side. “Jesus, you got this from—” 

“There was a coffee shop not far from your tower which remained undestroyed,” Loki said. “I thought it might be close to what you are used to.”

Stark almost looked like he was walking in a daze as he moved past Loki and toward the kitchen counter, his eyes locked on the cardboard contraption the coffee shop had given Loki, which held three other cups. Stark placed the cappuccino on the counter and glanced at them all before selecting one and prying off the lid, and then he held it to his face and drew in a deep breath. 

“Oh, god,” Stark groaned. “I don’t even care if this is poisoned, I’ll drink it anyway. Caffeine, I have _missed_ you.”

“Why would I poison you?” Loki asked, frowning. 

Stark’s expression shuttered for a moment, and Loki realised that – of course – Stark had taken that as a reminder of the fact that he was _supposedly_ under Loki’s control because why would Loki poison his servant? But rather than leaving things there, Loki felt the urge to keep things lighter. 

“If I wanted to kill you,” Loki said, “I would have done so in a manner that did not require me to go out and speak with other humans. You are a rather unsavoury lot in the mornings.” 

“That’s just the lack of coffee,” Stark replied. “Wait a minute, you’ll see. I’m about to become an entirely better person.” 

Loki rolled his eyes, fairly certain _that_ was an exaggeration. Stark’s eyes fell closed as he drank, taking several long, deep gulps. Once he was done he lowered the already half-empty cup with a long sigh, and met Loki’s gaze once more. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said. “I’ve been coping.”

“I know,” Loki said. “But I suppose that coping isn’t quite good enough.” 

“Then thank you, my god,” Stark said, bowing his head just a little before lifting the cup to his lips once more and swallowing down the liquid with the kind of desperation that a drowning man might use to gulp down air. 

Loki went to the couch after that, to continue reading one of the books he had found on a shelf upstairs. Stark ended up drinking _all_ of the coffee– and then proceeded to take apart a stereo and turn it into… well, Loki wasn’t _entirely_ sure what he’d turned it into, but it had wheels and liked to try and trip Loki up at inopportune moments. He might have been more annoyed about it, if the thing hadn’t done the exact same to Stark.

For the entirety of that day, Stark seemed brighter than he had since the beginning. And Loki couldn’t be sure whether it _was_ the caffeine, or if it was the small act of kindness Loki had shown– but after that, things began to relax just a little. 

And maybe that was why Loki began to head to New York _every_ morning to retrieve a coffee for Stark. Maybe it was because it made Stark easier to deal with– less of an irritation, and far more cheerful. Maybe it was because it was a way to get Stark to sympathise with him more, to lower the chance of Stark burying a knife in Loki’s back when all was said and done. Or maybe it was because it was something for Loki to _do_ amongst the boredom. 

Or maybe… maybe there was a different reason entirely. 

But every morning, without fail, Stark would always thank him for the coffee with a soft smile. And in that moment – just for one, precious second – Loki would no longer wonder _why_ he did it. 

—~—

Loki was not a particularly deep sleeper. 

That hadn’t always been the case– when he was younger, it would often take his mother running her hand through his hair with soft words, or – in extreme cases, such as when he had stayed up late working on some magical project or other – Thor throwing an entire tankard of water over his head to rouse him from his slumber.

Since his ordeal in a dark cell on Sanctuary II however, when he would be awoken at any and all times of the day by his Chitauri torturers, Loki’s sleep had become so light and restless that he would wake at the slightest of sounds– to the patter of rain upon the roof, or the noise of Stark moving in the living room at some terrible hour. Honestly, the mortal’s sleeping schedule was almost worrying. 

Of course, there _were_ those few nights when Loki would find it difficult to wake– but in one of those cruel workings of the universe that always seemed specifically designed to bring Loki the most pain possible, those were the very moments when Loki would welcome wakefulness with open arms. 

Because while the waking world was full of horrors, those that came at night were so much worse than what wakefulness currently held. 

Most of the time, Loki would be able to fend them off, the wake-up call he had learned to set with his seiðr when he was younger helping to pull him from his nightmares. But sometimes, even that was not enough, and he would find himself stuck in a dream that tore at his mind, pulling apart every fear, delving into the darkest parts of Loki’s mind until he was left screaming for a release he could never find. 

He was back in New York, back in Stark’s tower, and everything was going _exactly_ as Thanos would have desired. A fight with Thor ended with Loki’s knife in Thor’s heart, and Thor fell into a pool of blood with a gurgled final breath as Loki walked away without a care. Stark did not fall under the Mind Stone’s spell, nor did he pretend to– and Loki smiled as he snapped the man’s neck. 

And when it was done, when everything Loki cared about had been brought to ruin by his _own hand_ , the Other loomed over him with the cloying scent of decaying flesh upon his foul breath. 

“Not good enough,” The Other hissed. “Not _fast_ enough—” 

And then Loki would try again. 

Thor was crushed in the fall from the helicarrier, Stark was torn apart by Chitauri soldiers, and Loki looked on blankly all while _screaming_ inside his own head, knowing that it was all his own fault.

_“Loki!”_

There was no way to escape it, no way to break the cycle. He could not tear himself from this nightmare, he was stuck in a never-ending loop of horrors, watching his brother and his– and _Stark_ tortured and broken and rendered to a bloody mess over and over and over again—

“Loki, wake up!”

Loki sat up with a violent gasp, his eyes flying open and staring wildly, his breath coming in pants so harsh that they burned his throat. It was only when he reached up to run his hands through his hair that he realised he was wet, and when he looked up, it was to find Stark standing on the other side of the room, a glass held tightly in one hand. It would seem that he had utilised Thor’s tried and true method. 

Loki’s examination of Stark gave him something to focus on, and as he managed to calm himself enough that it no longer felt like every heartbeat was on the verge of cracking a rib, he realised that Stark was talking to him. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s okay, no one is going to hurt you.”

The words were likely meant to be soothing, but all of those things were _lies_ , and they only made Loki feel worse. There was something clawing at the back of his throat, something harsh and sickening and so terribly, terribly _awful—_

Because the more Loki calmed, the more he realised the truth. This had not been a simple dream– the sharp pain behind his eyes was too familiar for that. It had been a _warning_ , a violent and painfully visual reminder of exactly what would happen if he did not succeed in his mission. 

“It’s about, two-oh-four AM,” Stark was saying. “You’re in a cabin in northern New York, and the weather is fuck-ass cold considering it’s supposedly summer right now—” 

“What are you doing here?” Loki snapped, interrupting Stark’s renewed spiel, which– admittedly, _was_ more efficient than the earlier one, but still a little grating to listen to when all Loki could think about was the sudden shortening of his timeline. Suddenly, these few weeks of peace with Stark were coming to a crashing end, and unless Loki thought of a way to make it seem like he was making actual _progress_ other than simply discussing strategy with the mortal over dinner, then… 

Well, Loki had the impression that the ensuing violence would make his dreams seem like child’s-play. 

“I heard you yelling,” Stark answered, his voice suddenly a little nervous. “Uh. I thought maybe something was wrong, so I came to check– and I wasn’t just going to leave you in a nightmare like that, but you wouldn’t—” 

“Well, I am awake now,” Loki cut in. “And I do not have time for nonsense. We are far behind on the plan, I need– I need to do _something,_ and your chattering is only making it worse.” 

“Right, okay, whatever,” Stark said, holding up his hands and backing away, his expression pinched and his voice laced with the kind of harshness that was meant to mask hurt. “I know when I’m not wanted. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Loki felt a pang of guilt, sharp and biting. After all, it was not Stark’s fault that Loki was facing something unimaginable. Stark did not even _know_. All Stark had to work with was the fact that Loki had attacked his home and then tried to enslave his mind– and yet, he had helped Loki wake from that nightmare. 

And—

“Stark,” Loki said, his tone far softer than it had been before. 

Stark stopped in the doorway and glanced back, his expression blank.

Loki swallowed, suddenly feeling a little out of place– but when he spoke, his words were meant honestly. “Thank you.”

It was like a sudden weight had been lifted as Stark’s lips curved into a smile. “Ach, it was nothing,” Stark said, shrugging his shoulders. “Nightmares are the worst. I would know. It helps to… do something. If you want to plan, then I suppose I could...” He paused then, as if he were considering something– but then he shook his head and continued on his way back downstairs without a further word. 

Loki stared after him, turning Stark’s words over in his mind. They reminded him of what he had heard of Stark before their time in the cabin had begun, and he realised how likely it was that Stark suffered from nightmares as well. And suddenly, Stark’s sleeping schedule seemed to be less something to complain about, and more something to sympathise with. 

And suddenly… Loki had a rather peculiar urge. He could hear Stark moving around down in the living room, just as he often did at this time of night– and in that moment, he wished that he could go down and join him. He thought he might be welcome, because that smile Stark had given him made it seem like he _would_ be– but he couldn’t help continuing to hesitate. 

For a moment, he wasn’t entirely certain why that was the case, because even if Stark did not want him there then Loki would simply come back, none the worse for having made the short trip. But… he didn’t want to appear weak, as he knew he would be if anyone else had seen him in the state that Stark had. You see, nightmares on Asgard were something not talked about, because if you had them, then it was taken as a sign that either you regretted something you had done, or you had a fear that you had yet to face. 

But Stark was not an Asgardian, and Loki rather got the impression that he would _understand,_ perhaps more so than anyone else. Even if he didn’t know what it was Loki had been through, even though Loki hadn’t told him the details – even though Stark possibly still saw Loki as the true enemy, since he did not even know of the Mad Titan’s existence – Stark was the kind of person who would put aside judgement and simply help. 

So perhaps it was a gamble, but in that moment– exhausted and aching and wanting nothing _less_ than to fall back asleep, Loki thought that it was a gamble he was willing to make. 

So he pulled himself from his bed, and made his way down the stairs, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders as he did so. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting when he arrived downstairs– perhaps to find Stark watching something on the television, or creating some other metallic creature out of the toaster. But he certainly had _not_ been expecting to find Stark sitting on the floor, a few square boards before him and various colourful pieces of plastic and small cards spread haphazardly all around him. 

He stared for a moment before moving closer, confused. 

“Hey,” Stark greeted quietly, looking up with a smile. “Can’t get back to sleep, huh?”

Loki shook his head, though he could hardly bring himself to answer the question at all, his eyes locked on the odd sight before him. “What in the Nine are you doing?” he asked. 

Stark grinned as he spread his arms, as if he were a great artist displaying his masterpiece. “Strategising,” he said. “I’m coming up with a plan.” 

“A plan,” Loki echoed, arching his brow. “Using these pieces of plastic?” Looking a little closer, it appeared that Stark had made a city of small red and green houses, but he couldn’t make sense of the pattern, or of the small metal pieces, or the cards which had been built into a kind of triangular shaped tower. 

“Here, look,” Stark said with a heavy sigh. He patted the spot beside him in a request that was very easy to decipher, though Loki remained hesitant as he sat down, still holding his blanket around his shoulders. “Okay,” Stark said, gesturing to a small car and some kind of hat, both silver in colour. “So this here is us, right?” he started. “And this is the pentagon.” He pointed to a square board to the left, the one with the card-tower on it– and then he picked up a handful of the red and green houses which – apparently – had not meant to be in any kind of pattern at all. “I’ve been wondering– do we have to be right by the portal? I mean, we’ve already got the Tesseract, right? And you said that the army is going to do all the work– all we have to do is get it here. But once we’ve done that, could we just…” 

Stark trailed off, and then he held his hand over the board – the pentagon – and let go. The plastic houses fell from his hand and landed on top of the tower, knocking down the cards and sending them flying across the room. 

“What do you think?” Stark asked. “We stay out of the way, and _boom_ , job done. We could even create a distraction for the Avengers, get them away from DC—” 

“The Chitauri are not overly intelligent beings,” Loki said, though the corner of his lips tugged up into an almost smile. “They will need guidance.”

“It didn’t look like you were doing much guiding in New York,” Stark pointed out teasingly– though his gaze had sharpened, and Loki knew that he would pick up on any more details Loki gave out. 

“I had barely begun,” Loki reminded him. “A certain irritating mortal got in my way before I was able to point the Chitauri in the right direction.”

“And I totally saved your ass,” Stark grinned– but then he winced. “I mean, I—”

“Do not apologise,” Loki said wearily, waving a hand. “I am tired, and I have no patience for it. You know that I wish for you to speak your mind.” 

“Right.” Stark’s grin reappeared as if it had never been gone. “Well, in that case, how about a different approach?” He reached out and began to rearrange his madness– but before he could create any kind of order, Loki asked—

“What is all of this supposed to be?” 

“It’s stuff from board games,” Stark said absently as he concentrated. “I found a whole heap stuffed into a cupboard the other night.” 

When Loki didn’t respond, Stark looked up curiously. 

“Do you guys have games on Asgard?” he asked. 

“We do,” Loki said. “But they are _actual_ games of strategy, which require thinking and skill to master. And none of them are quite so… colourful.”

“Oh, we’ve got stuff like that as well. Chess, for example. Black and white, strategy, yada yada– but if you want to really have fun, then this stuff is what you want.” 

“They do not appear to be overly complicated,” Loki said, narrowing his eyes. “Are they not for children?”

“Well, kids can play them but– hang on.” Stark’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me that you’ve never played Monopoly before?”

Loki merely arched a brow, and suddenly, Stark’s eyes got this _gleam_ in them that Loki… rather liked, actually. It was the sort of spark that made Loki wonder what it was the mortal would do next. 

“Okay, so that’s something that needs to be fixed like right the fuck now.” As he spoke, Stark shoved most of the pieces away with a swipe of his hand– destroying the careful ‘planning’ that he had done, but Loki was perfectly aware that neither of them actually cared about that. Then Stark collected one of the square-shaped boards, as well as the colourful paper money which looked nothing like that which Stark used to buy their food – and which Loki had been recently using to buy Stark’s coffee – and the small red and green plastic houses. “Monopoly might not seem like it at first, but it _is_ a game of strategy, and I’m rather good at it, if I might say so myself. I suppose that it is something of a requirement, given that I’m… well, me.” 

“Humble,” Loki commented. Stark grinned, and then began collecting more pieces from the mess, including cards of various colours, and the tiny silver-coloured pieces in varying shapes. 

“Do we not need these small grey ships?” Loki gestured to the pieces in question, which looked rather like the silver metal ship Stark had picked up and placed with the other tokens, save that they were plastic.

“Nah, those are part of the Battleships set,” Stark said. “That one involves a lot of guesswork, but it also helps if you’re good at reading your opponent.” He paused for a moment, and then looked up with a smile. “You might like that one actually. You know what? Monopoly will take a long time, but– we can play a game of Battleships, first. Then we can swap.” 

Loki was, admittedly, dubious at first when he saw the simple set-up– but by the time Stark had finished explaining the purpose of the game, Loki was already mentally locked into the challenge and determined to win. And Stark was right– he _did_ like it. He enjoyed watching Stark’s expressions, and he relished learning to read them, deciphering every twitch of his lips or tightening of his eyes. And when Stark began cursing as Loki managed to win the game, Loki actually laughed, surprised to find that he was starting to enjoy himself. 

Even later on in the evening, when Stark had amassed a fortune in the game of Monopoly and nothing Loki did seemed to be able to prevent himself from falling into bankruptcy– he was still having _fun,_ more fun than he’d had in a very long time. 

It was strange to think that he could, after how he had woken– but it seemed that Stark had something of a talent for making Loki smile.


	5. Dance three steps ahead

When the moment Loki had been dreading finally arrived, it came when he least expected it. 

He had not forgotten that the Other was constantly watching over his shoulder, and the reminder of a few days before was still clear as crystal in his mind, echoed by the nightmares he suffered every time he had tried to sleep since. And he could _feel_ the Other’s presence, that terrible-awful itch in the back of his mind which reminded him that he was never truly alone, not anymore. And he knew that no matter how much he was enjoying this time with Stark, no matter how close he had been able to come to convincing himself that this sense of liberty could last, the shackles would forever remain around his wrists unless he could think of a way to free himself from the Other’s impossible grip. 

Still though, there had been _moments_ , moments when he could push the worry aside and feel almost as light as he had been before he’d fallen from the Bifröst bridge– moments when he and Stark were stalling so well that they almost forgot why they were stalling in the first place. 

Stark was in the middle of teaching Loki how to play a game called _UNO_ , something which _should_ have been simple but apparently included a myriad of rules that took a ten-minute lecture to cover—

—when Loki felt the summons with the same kind of suddenness and violence as being hit by Mjölnir when one was not expecting it, and he wasted no time in immediately answering the call– knowing that to do anything else would be far too great a risk.

And in the space between one breath and the next, Loki shifted from being inside his body in the cabin with Stark, to being out in the cold darkness of the Void, standing before the Other on his Nornsforsaken rock. 

“Asgardian,” the Other said, the word less a greeting and more an unpleasant curse, the syllables twisted into a hiss and a spit that made the hairs on the back of Loki’s neck rise up. “It has been _weeks_ , and you have made no progress.”

“You must know that the original plan was flawed,” Loki said, following the Other’s lead by jumping straight to the point– and not caring for niceties regardless. “The mortal currently under my control was right when he said that we would lose had we continued on that path—”

“He is _not_ under your control,” the Other interrupted. “You _lie—_ ”

“No, I do not,” Loki cut in, refusing to let the Other steamroll him, even after all that had been done. “He is not under the control of the Mind Stone, but I assure you, he _is_ under _my_ control. He believes that _I_ believe him in my thrall, but in knowing the truth I have been able to manipulate him far more effectively. In addition, the Avengers have been deprived of their best mind for weeks now. The majority of the humans believe the Chitauri to be a hoax, and they are lowering their guard while their heroes are scrambling to find the Avenger I have stolen. We are in a far better position now than we ever were before, so when we strike – and we shall strike soon – we _will_ succeed.” 

There were a few beats where Loki did not think that what he had said had been enough, a few moments where the Other stared at him with the kind of anger Loki knew all too well– and he could not help but think of the last time they had spoken. 

_There will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain?_

_He will make you_ long _for something as sweet as pain._

The words had scared him then, and they scared him now, because he knew the threat was far from empty. But he held his ground and unflinchingly held the Other’s gaze– and in the end, it was not he who backed down first. 

“I hope for _your_ sake that you are right,” The Other hissed, though this time, the sound only made Loki feel _proud_. “Because if you are wrong…”

“I am not wrong,” Loki replied. Then he leaned a little closer, pushing through his fear and directing it toward something else. Oh, the Other had made a mistake in giving him this time to recuperate, and he would make sure that he came to regret it. “I will have Midgard, and when I do, Thanos will get what he wants. And when all is said and done, when Thanos has his Stones and has destroyed half of all living things– if you are still alive, then I will find you. He will no longer care to protect you, and I will _have_ my vengeance for all you have done to me.”

The Other’s mouth twisted harshly. “I told Thanos that you are not to be trusted—”

“Oh, I am going to open Thanos’ portal,” Loki hissed. “There is no need for you to doubt that. I will do as _he_ asks. You are the one who will need to watch your back.” He raised his hand, and let a glimmer of green seiðr flicker between his fingers. “Do you think _you_ know the meaning of pain?” he asked, his voice amused. “Perhaps you will, in time.” 

“You _will_ regret that,” The Other snarled. 

Loki doubted it– saying those words felt far better than anything had in the past year. Well… _almost_ anything. Perhaps what he was doing was foolhardy, perhaps they were words worthy of Thor’s hotheadedness rather than his own intelligence, but there was something so satisfying in it that he hadn’t been able to resist. And besides– Loki was on the astral plane, the Other could not truly reach him—

Or so he thought.

As Loki turned and prepared to leave, the Other reached out with his six-fingered hand and grasped at the air before him– and as he closed it, it was like he pulled on a sharp wire that was attached to the inside of Loki’s mind. He managed not to cry out, but he couldn’t help the flinch, and the Other’s snarl twisted into a smirk in response. 

“The pain that you have already felt will be nothing _,”_ the Other hissed. “ _Nothing_ compared to what is yet to come for you, and for your clever mortal.” 

“You will _not_ touch him,” Loki replied sharply, his voice as harsh as the gnashing of teeth and with as much bite as the coldest of winters. 

But the Other merely smiled, his already grotesque face twisting into something far more sinister. “I do not need to _touch_ either of you,” he hissed. “And although I cannot wait to see you in person, this will certainly do for now.” 

Loki tried to pull himself free, but the tethers that The Other still had in his mind were far too strong. His form felt locked in place, and he couldn’t return to his body– every piece of him _screaming_ with a kind of pain which wasn’t truly felt, but which speared through the very centre of Loki’s being. 

He was sure that he must be screaming aloud, too, and his throat felt hoarse, though the sound did not escape his lips. But he refused to be beaten, and so he lifted his chin and spoke through gritted teeth. 

“If you think that this is enough to scare me,” Loki hissed, “Then you will find yourself sorely disappointed.” 

“I am not trying to scare you, Asgardian,” the Other said, his voice low enough to almost be a croon had it not had such a grating sound. “This is not to sow fear. I am merely preparing _myself_ for the joys which are yet to come– should you not begin your attack at the very _first_ opportunity _.”_

The Other jerked his hand forward and closed it around Loki’s throat, and Loki was struck with a pain so encompassing that his vision blurred, screaming so loudly inside his head he was sure that his vocal cords must be tearing—

_“—Loki!”_

Loki came back into himself with a gasp, his eyes flying open to the sight of Stark’s face right beside his own. He reached out instinctively to grip Stark’s upper arms, steadying himself as he tried to calm his breathing. Loki _had_ been screaming, it would seem– his throat was afire, his mouth dry, and there was a fear in Stark’s eyes which would likely not have been there had Loki managed to remain silent. 

“What happened?” Stark asked, his voice sounding _almost_ as afraid as it _should_. 

“Nothing,” Loki muttered, forcing himself to push the mortal away, wrapping his arms around his middle instead. His voice was hoarse, and he could still feel the phantom sensation of The Other’s fingers crushing his windpipe. 

“That wasn’t nothing,” Stark replied. “You just– you disappeared on me, closing your eyes and going entirely still as if… and then… wait. Loki, were you… you were somewhere else just now, weren’t you? You were _with_ someone else.” 

“Sharp as always, Stark,” Loki groaned. “It would appear that you have been paying attention whenever I talk about magic—”

“You mentioned being able to go places without actually moving when you tried to cheat at Monopoly last week,” Stark cut in. “But that’s not important, this is– Loki, you… you were…” 

It wasn’t like Stark to struggle so with his words, and it was that which made Loki realise he wasn’t acting at all. Stark had dropped the charade entirely, and the worry that was flashing across his face now was nothing less than the truth. 

And with that, Loki decided he would return the favour– at least as well as he could, given the circumstances. 

“I was somewhere else,” he admitted. “I was summoned by… well, by the current right hand of the person behind the attack on your city.” 

Stark’s eyes widened. “The person behind… you mean it wasn’t your idea?”

“I agreed to it,” Loki said. “I was given the sceptre on the condition that I would use it to retrieve the Tesseract, and when I was done, I would be given your planet to rule as a reward. Of course, I would do so at the pleasure of the Titan who sent me here, but it would be mine nonetheless.”

Stark’s eyes were wide, and as Loki continued to speak his expression hardened– but Loki held his gaze and spoke with a clear purpose. 

“I agreed to it of my own free will,” he said, putting careful emphasis on each and every word. “I am _loyal_ to Thanos, this plan _must_ succeed– and if I must destroy every building in this realm to make it so, including the coffee shop where I buy your cappuccinos, then so be it.” 

It was as if Stark had a sudden revelation, his eyes first narrowing in suspicion and then widening again, brows lifting and his lips parting as if in surprise– and Loki _knew_ that he had caught on to what Loki was trying to tell him, that Stark was right next to Loki as they fought to dance three steps ahead of their eavesdropper.

“And this guy,” Stark said. “He keeps an eye on you… to _help_ you out?”

“Yes,” Loki said, the relief flooding through him. “He wanted to make sure that we were still on track.”

Stark’s frown deepened– and then he reached forward to grip Loki’s forearms. Loki let him gently pry them from his middle and then turned his palms up so that they were holding on to each other, almost mirroring the position they had been in before. “And you were screaming _because?”_

“He was very thorough in reminding me what awaits should we fail,” Loki muttered– and Stark’s hands tightened on his arms. Loki hoped that this wouldn’t be something that the Other would grow suspicious about. It shouldn’t be– he had told the Other that he was manipulating Stark, and this could only be seen as more of the same– even though Loki knew that was not the truth.

“I know what that’s like,” Stark said. “I…” he frowned, thinking for a moment before he continued. “Do you know, what happened to me? How I became Iron Man.”

“Yes,” Loki admitted. “When I arrived on Midgard, I had Barton help me go through files on anyone who would be a threat. He spoke at length about Romanoff, and Director Fury– and he also told me rather a lot about you.” 

“Barton thought I was a threat?” Stark asked. “I suppose I should be flattered.” 

“He told me that you were smarter than any other, and that you would be one of the first people that Fury would call. He also told me how resourceful you were, and that it was SHIELD’s belief that you were capable of thinking your way out of almost any situation you found yourself in.”

Stark remained silent at that, though Loki could see the gears turning in his mind. 

“So, yes,” Loki finished. “I suppose you could say that I know Iron Man was born in a fiery crucible, as it were.” 

Stark drew in a breath at that, though it was clear that he had been hoping that was the case. “Then you should know that I can _understand_ ,” Stark said. 

It was quite clever, really, the way that Stark had managed to word that– because Loki knew what had been done to him, he had seen the man’s files and the medical report after he had returned from his brutal kidnapping. He _knew_ that Stark had been tortured, and Stark was letting him know that he knew Loki had been, as well. 

But Loki didn’t entirely want to think about it that way, because if he did, then he was just painting himself as a victim– and he _wasn’t_. He hadn’t fallen into all of this just because his father had been a liar– he hadn’t been lost to the tide of fate the moment he’d let go of Gungnir, and thinking of it that way took away any sense of agency that he had left. 

No.

He had _chosen_ this, he had made the conscious decision to fall in with Thanos’ plan– at least in the beginning. 

But, at the same time… he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips as he thought of exactly what Stark meant by what he had said. Because the more he thought about it, the more Loki realised that for the first time in… well, likely in _centuries_ , he had bared his soul to another person, told them the truth about something terrible he had done– and rather than being told that he was wrong, that he should stop, that he was an awful person who could never do anything right or honourable, Stark had instead told him that he _understood_. In his own way, Stark had not only given his understanding, but his forgiveness as well– and all without revealing the depth of what was happening to their eavesdroppers.

It seemed that Stark’s charade truly had finally cracked, though not in the way that either of them had expected.

And in that moment, Loki couldn’t have said why he did it– only that it seemed like the thing to do, the only thing that he _wanted_ to do. They were still so very near to each other, their arms still all but entwined, their legs pressed together and their faces close enough that Loki could feel Stark’s cool breath upon his cheek. Loki was still flying on that heady sensation of being known and _accepted_ , and yes, in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to tilt his head and touch their lips together. 

It hardly could have been called a kiss– it was the gentlest brush of lips, the swiftest of caresses that held hardly any more pressure than the flutter of butterfly wings. Then Loki leaned away– and when he saw Stark’s expression, his heart almost stuttered to a halt. 

Stark’s eyes were wide in shock, and it looked as though all the colour had drained from his face. 

And as he realised what must have happened, as he remembered the situation they were _still_ in regardless of what was going on in Loki’s head – as he recognised that just because _he_ had untangled what he was feeling, that in no way meant that _Stark_ felt the same way – he immediately began to give his apologies. 

“Stark, I am so sorry,” Loki said, not caring that it certainly was not something one would normally say to a person under their control. But– oh, Norns, what if Stark believed that he would need to reciprocate in order to hold up his charade? What if he thought Loki was the kind of person to ask _favours_ of someone who could not refuse?

The thought made Loki feel sick, because– somehow, impossibly, he had come to care for Stark, and the idea of him thinking such things of Loki… 

He couldn’t bear it.

So he moved to apologise _again_ , putting every ounce of sincerity he could muster into his tone, growing increasingly worried over the way that Starks’ expression was closing off. 

“I truly am sorry,” he repeated. “I know that I shouldn’t have– I know that you’re—”

“I’m not.” Stark’s voice was low, serious– honest. And Loki’s eyes widened as he realised what Stark was doing, and what that meant. He had been _wrong,_ so wrong, because Stark’s reaction wasn’t due to thinking badly of Loki, not in the slightest—

But that didn’t mean that what was _actually_ happening was any easier to process.

Did Stark truly now trust Loki so much that he would be willing to admit his pretence? There was, of course, the chance that he had simply realised that Loki knew the truth – more than likely, given their earlier conversation and Stark’s apparent ability to read Loki so well – but Loki was sure that if Stark already knew then he would not have bothered to let this go on for so long, not when he so visibly hated following the few, pointless orders that Loki gave to keep up his own side of the fiction. Stark was admitting it now _because_ Loki had kissed him, and that thought… by the Nine, it had to be one of the sweetest thoughts Loki had ever had. 

Yet it was also one of the most dangerous, and no matter how much Loki’s heart cried out for him to accept the honesty Stark was offering, he knew that it was simply far too risky. 

Because Stark couldn’t admit it now, he _couldn’t_ – because doing so would mean that he would have to admit he wasn’t trying to help Loki, and then Loki would find himself once again with a plan that was falling to pieces. 

Only this time, he would not be able to salvage any of it. 

So, his heart beating so rapidly he felt like it might break free from his chest, Loki pinned Stark with a hard stare, trying to say with his eyes and his tone of voice that which was too perilous to speak aloud. 

“You mean that you’re not _sorry?”_ He made sure to place as much emphasis on the final word as he could, staring hard. Stark frowned, but _thank the Norns_ he wasn’t slow on the uptake. 

“Yes,” he said. “I’m not… _sorry_ that you kissed me, and I don’t think that I ever will be. You can kiss me whenever you like, my god.”

It was an odd sensation, to feel relieved and sickened from the same statement. Even knowing that the words were said in a _lie_ , they still made him feel that terrible wrongness, and in that moment he _hated_ the situation that they had found themselves in– that even though they had all but admitted this was what they both freely wanted, it wasn’t something they could have. Not so long as the Other was watching their every move. 

Loki felt like he had to say _something_ , because he knew that he couldn’t just leave things as they were. Not when he wanted to kiss Stark again with the kind of yearning that sat as an ache in his chest– not when he wanted everything Stark was willing to offer with a fierceness that he couldn’t put into words. 

He couldn’t just end this conversation as it was, because that would feel too final. He needed Stark to know that he hadn’t wanted to stop– that in fact, if he was free to choose, he would hold Stark close in his arms and never let him go. 

So, he caught Stark’s confused and pained gaze, and he spoke with the kind of heavy weight that made it clear he meant more than he was able to say. “Perhaps when we’ve won,” he said, “When you stand beside me as I sit on the throne of Midgard… perhaps then I will kiss you again.” 

“When we’ve _won,”_ Stark whispered, confusion giving way to understanding as his lips pulled up into a proper smile. “Yes. I do think I like the sound of that.” 

“Good,” Loki replied with something of a relieved sigh. “Because I like the sound of that, as well.”

“In that case,” Stark said, his voice firm, his dark eyes dancing with a thousand different things that he was not about to say– because somehow, he’d understood everything that Loki had been trying to tell him. “What do you say to getting this show on the road?”

“You want to do it now?” Loki asked, surprised– and a little disappointed, if he were being honest. He had hoped that now they had worked out the way that they _both_ felt, they would be able to stay in their little bubble for a while longer– but Stark, it seemed, had other ideas. 

“Yes. We’ve come up with plenty of ideas, and you’ve recovered as much as you’re going to,” Stark said. “The rest of the world is no longer expecting anything and if the Avengers haven’t torn each other to shreds by now, then at the very least they’re at the stage of biting each other’s heads off. You saw what they’re like– they’re a chemical reaction waiting to happen. They only need to be stirred up a little and then, they’ll explode. This is as perfect a moment to strike as we are ever going to get, so c’mon, give the order, and let’s go and bring the heat.”

“You Midgardians speak in such a strange manner sometimes,” Loki said, though he couldn’t help the small smile. “Or is that just you, Stark?” 

When all Stark did was grin, Loki rolled his eyes. 

“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes, Tony, I order you to begin making preparations,’” Stark said. “Speaking of, actually, you know you _can_ call me Tony, right?”

“ _I_ am the one in charge here,” Loki shot back– and then, after half a second’s consideration, he added, “And what if I like calling you Stark?”

“You’re also the one who hired me to make the plans,” Stark pointed out, rather unfortunately not reacting to the name at all. Oh, well. But then, maybe Loki spoke too soon– “So, come on then, _Reindeer Games._ Want to see my plan?”

Stark had this look about him which Loki _knew_ just meant he was trying to stir up trouble, but Loki merely smiled, bright enough to show his teeth. 

“Very well, _Anthony,”_ he said. “Show it to me.”

Stark’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he shrugged as if accepting that was as good as he was going to get, and shifted so that he was sitting beside Loki rather than in front of him. It seemed that now Anthony knew that Loki _knew_ , he was no longer willing to so much as even pretend, and his cheek grew even worse than it ever had been before. But rather than getting frustrated, Loki found that it took some of the strain out of what they were doing, and he was grateful for it. 

They both settled into a more comfortable position as Anthony laid out his idea, building shapes out of the UNO cards which were still scattered around them. They remained close, their knees pressed together, their arms brushing every time Anthony reached for another coloured card. 

The plan that Anthony described was very similar to that which he had laid out using pieces of the Monopoly set the week before, and as Loki listened, he realised what it was that Anthony was doing. 

And by the Nine, if they were _lucky_ … it just might actually work. 

He didn’t entirely like the idea at first of course, because the risk truly was great– for they both knew what the Other would do if they failed in their mission. But, well– Loki had thought it himself, hadn’t he? There was no way that they could be together so long as Loki was under the heel of Thanos’ boot– and if they wanted their freedom, then they would have to take it _themselves_. 

“So we attack the Pentagon,” Loki summarised once Stark was finished, his decision already made. “ _Tomorrow?”_

“Yes,” Anthony agreed. “You wanted me to come up with a plan. That’s the best I’ve got.” 

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, a hundred different things passing between them. They both knew the truth of the matter. They could have done this _weeks_ ago, and they had both been stalling the entire time– but their motives had long since changed. 

Now, they were on the same wavelength– and they knew what they had to do. 

The board was set, and it was a plan they had discussed enough times over the weeks to know exactly how it would go. 

And when Loki spoke the first of the last set of orders he would give, he felt a thrill of anticipation despite his misgivings. 

“You should go to the store, to collect last minute supplies,” he said. “I will remain here. I need to check my armour, and I will need to get back in contact with Selvig.” 

This time – unlike literally _every other time_ Loki had asked Stark to go to the store – the mortal did not roll his eyes. Instead, his expression hardened into a determined frown, and he gave a firm nod. Before he left, though, he ran his fingers along the inside of Loki’s wrist, and then gave his hand a gentle squeeze which somehow worked to calm Loki’s nerves far more effectively than anything else could have managed. 

And then, once Stark was out of the door Loki settled himself comfortably, drew in a deep breath, and prepared to contact the Other for the second time in just over an hour. 

The Other, of course, would want to be informed of the plan immediately, and Loki would not hesitate in giving him as much time as possible to scramble the Chitauri fleet and get the army in place. 

But of course, while Loki was doing that, he could not be watching Anthony…

And that meant Anthony would be free to make a few _unsupervised_ phone calls of his own. 


	6. Bring down the sky

Anthony stumbled once again when Loki’s seiðr guided them through the branches of Yggdrasil– but this time, unlike the first, he was grinning. 

“I didn’t tell you this last time, because I was a little bit distracted with the whole... newness of it all,” Anthony said– and Loki was easily able to read between the lines and hear the words ‘invasion’ and ‘attempted mind control’ and ‘kidnapping’ in amongst what Anthony was actually saying. He appreciated the vagueness, though– and any remaining discomfort was immediately wiped away by Anthony’s next words. “But I really love your magic. It’s amazing, did you know that?”

“I did, actually,” Loki replied smugly– though he would be lying if he said he didn’t preen just a little at the compliment. 

They had arrived on the roof of their target building, Loki’s seiðr shrouding them from sight and from the cameras that were no doubt littered over every single inch of the place. The building’s iconic shape meant that the vantage point didn’t give them a view of _everything_ , but it was enough to let them see that the situation was just as they had hoped. 

“The Pentagon is the headquarters of the US Defence Force,” Anthony said as they waited, repeating words he had spoken before for the sake of Loki’s eavesdroppers. “If we hit them here, hard and fast, then the nation will be crippled– and once we have America and all of her resources, we’ll be in a pretty solid position to take on the rest of the world. And that’s not even me being overly Americentric, that’s just a fact.”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to open the portal over the home of your leader?” Loki asked. “Cut off the head of the snake?”

“Sure, that would cause a lot of chaos,” Anthony agreed. “But the army and the air force and everyone else all have their _own_ heads, and they would still be able to muster up enough of a defence that we’d be in trouble. We need to take _them_ down first, and we can always deal with the President later.” 

Loki nodded. It was something they had already discussed, after all, and he was only filling in time– as well as making sure that the Other, if he were listening, knew _exactly_ what the plan was. 

They talked through their options for a few more minutes– but then a buzz sounded from Anthony’s pocket, and he shot Loki a loaded look. 

It was time. 

And Loki knew that he was acting on faith, here, that if he was wrong about Anthony and the mortal decided to betray him, this could very well be the end. 

But… Loki _did_ trust him, and he reached out with the hand not holding his sceptre to take Anthony’s once again. Then he gathered his seiðr and pulled them through to where they needed to go next– the grassed area right in the heart of the Pentagon, directly beside a place called ‘Taco Bell.’ 

Selvig had done as instructed, and was waiting for them at the portal machine. Everything was in place– he only needed the Tesseract to complete the mechanism. His eyes widened when he saw Loki, but Anthony held up one hand in a clear gesture of peace– while his other remained entwined with Loki’s. 

“It’s all right,” Anthony said. “I’m on your side.” 

That, of course, contained several layers, and Loki wasn’t entirely sure that it was believable enough. Strangely, he found that he didn’t _want_ to use the sceptre to re-exert control over Selvig, but he would if he had to. Loki had been able to feel his control over Selvig slipping– he knew that the man had regained some of his faculties, though certainly not all. But when Selvig glanced between Anthony and Loki again, he just gave a firm nod. 

Loki could at least be glad that all the humans he had been forced to work with for this little endeavour were all on the more intelligent side, and had been able to work through the half-truths at least well enough to see what needed to be done. 

That settled, Loki let go of Anthony’s hand and then lifted his own, twisting his fingers through the air and pulling the Tesseract out of one of his pocket dimensions. It hovered just above his palm, glowing a bright blue and casting all of their faces in odd shadows. 

Loki took a step toward the portal machine, preparing to put the Tesseract into its place– but then he paused. The sight of the Tesseract truly was mesmerising, but when Loki looked at it, all he could see was the fact that the moment he let it go, everything would be put into motion, and there would be no turning back. 

Then Anthony’s hand landed on his shoulder, pressing firmly enough that he could feel it through his armour. 

“Go on,” Anthony said. “You’re so close. Everything that you’ve worked for is right within your grasp– all you have to do is reach out and take it. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, my god. It’s time to bring down the sky.”

It was all the encouragement Loki needed. He gave the Tesseract that final push, and then it slid into place. 

Selvig seemed to hesitate, and Loki turned to shoot him a glare, but Anthony moved first. He did not bother attempting to convince Selvig to do the last bit of work– instead, he simply went to the control panel and pushed the necessary buttons himself.

The moment he was done, the Tesseract began to glow a bright blue and a beam of light shot straight up into the sky, cutting through the air and tearing a hole in the very fabric of the universe. Loki could see the darkness of the void beyond, and a shiver ran down his spine—

But then the sight of it was blocked by something so much worse as the first of the Chitauri began to spew through the entrance. 

It seemed that The Other truly had been listening in on their plans, for rather than the slow trickle of the invasion in New York, the Chitauri came through in a sudden and explosive horde, the writhing masses pouring through the portal thousands at a time—

And they were immediately met with a barrage of artillery fire as every single one of the many tanks and anti-aircraft weapons the mortals had managed to cram into the large car parks surrounding the Pentagon in the sixteen-hour window they had been given all opened fire at once. 

After all, it was as Anthony had said– the Pentagon was the centre of the military operations in this part of Midgard. They weren’t just going to sit by and _let_ it be attacked, and the very moment Anthony had passed along the details of his and Loki’s plan, they began to muster every ounce of defence that they could. 

There were SHIELD quinjets approaching as well, all rising from where they had been waiting in the park on the other side of the river. They too joined the fight, circling around the edges of the portal, staying just far away enough that they weren’t going to be caught in friendly fire– and adding far more firepower to the fight than would have been possible otherwise. 

The screams of the Chitauri could be heard from the ground even before their corpses began to fall– and Loki threw up his hand to erect a shield with his seiðr so that he, Anthony, and Selvig would not be crushed by any of the bodies. 

Loki could _feel_ The Other’s anger, could feel him pulling at Loki’s mind, trying to make him _come—_

But Loki forced the summons away, and fought as hard as he could to stay exactly where he was as he glanced back to Anthony. 

“Are they ready?” he asked. 

Anthony glanced to the phone he had bought at the store the day before, and then looked up with a vicious grin. “Ten seconds.” 

They turned to the sky with a surge of anticipation, and watched as a plane flew overhead from the north, flanked by yet more quinjets. The pilot steered his craft with care, and the quinjets protected it as it headed toward the portal. 

The guns on the ground kept up their assault, but the jets by the portal peeled away as the new arrival made its approach—

Then the plane fired its payload—

As did the two which had flown in from the east and west. 

The three nuclear cruise missiles all shot toward the target, drawn in by the electromagnetic field of the portal itself, and shot higher by the stream of energy from the machine. 

And the moment the missiles flew through the army which was still attempting to make its advance, Anthony gave the command—

“Close the portal!”

Not even bothering with the controls, Loki threw out his hand and used the tip of the sceptre to knock the Tesseract away from the machine—

The beam of light cut out—

And the portal slammed closed. 

For a single heartbeat, Loki stared up at the clear blue sky, not quite believing that it was _over,_ feeling like he was holding his breath—

Then a pain like no other spiked through Loki’s mind, like someone had grasped onto the inside of his brain and was trying to force it out through his skull, a little piece at a time. He clutched at his head and fell to the ground with a cry, his whole body wracked with tremors. He could hear a voice calling his name, but it was nothing to the screams inside his head, the way that they tore at his insides as if it were ripping his very being apart at the seams—

And then, just as quickly as it had started, the pain vanished with hardly a trace other than the ghostly sensation of a headache long passed and the final relief of losing an ever-present itch. 

It only took Loki a fraction of a second to work out what had occurred. 

The Other was gone– the Other was _dead_ , killed along with the Chitauri fleet by the explosion from the humans’ three missiles. 

For the first time since he had fallen into Thanos’ grasp – for the first time in far, far too long – Loki was _free_. 

Oh, he didn’t doubt that Thanos was still alive– it would take a lot more than _that_ to kill him. But The Other had not survived. Of that, Loki was certain– he didn’t need to project himself back into the void for confirmation, he could _feel_ it. Perhaps he should have felt disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to get the retribution he had promised, but knowing the Other was gone for good was sweet enough. 

And as he knelt there on the ground in the middle of the Pentagon, Loki threw back his head and began to _laugh._

He was still laughing when the doors around them flew open, the deal Anthony had made with the mortals to keep interference away dissipating the moment that the portal had closed. The Avengers reached them first, all crowding around– and Anthony, who had been watching Loki with the confusing mix of a small smile on his lips and concern in his eyes, immediately turned to face them with a scowl. 

All of the Avengers were there, even Banner, in his smaller form– his eyes flicking between Loki and Anthony with the kind of wariness that suggested he was worried for his friend, but not worried of what would happen should this turn into a fight. 

It was a very odd thing, to see such assured power in the body of such a shy man. Loki supposed it must have taken practice and discipline to keep such power in check– and he knew that Banner, even without taking the Hulk into consideration, was no doubt a force to be reckoned with. 

But it was not Banner, nor Barton, nor even the usually talkative Rogers who spoke first. 

“Loki,” Thor said, his expression stony as he stepped forward. “You must—”

“No,” Loki snapped, quickly getting to his feet and gathering his seiðr. “I won’t be going anywhere with you.” 

“You’re not going anywhere at all,” Anthony said quickly, turning back– but Loki shook his head. 

“No, Anthony,” he said, his tone far softer than when he had spoken to Thor, his smile feeling strange and out of place on his lips. “I think you’ll find that I am.” 

And as his seiðr whisked him away to a safer place, Loki thought that he might have heard Anthony call his name—

But of course, that may only have been wishful thinking. 

—~—

The cabin felt large and empty without Anthony there to fill it. The rooms were too quiet, too still– and even when Loki nudged all of Anthony’s various robotic creations to life, it still didn’t seem quite right. 

Loki was not sure why he had even returned to the place– there was no need to, after all. The only belongings that he had here were those Anthony had purchased from the store, and all of his more personal things he already carried with him in his pocket dimensions. But after he had dumped the sceptre and the Tesseract into the dark depths of Ginnungagap as he made his way over Yggdrasil’s branches between the Pentagon and the cabin – which had possibly not been the _best_ thing to do with two Infinity Stones, but he’d rather had enough of them and he couldn’t think of another place where Thanos would be less likely to be able to find them – his feet had simply carried him back. It would seem that he just… hadn’t wanted to be anywhere else. 

Loki knew that it wasn’t wise to stay long– even now, the Avengers and SHIELD would be questioning Anthony, and he would more than likely give the location away. Oh, it wasn’t that he thought Anthony _wanted_ him caught, for he was sure that the fondness Anthony had felt for him was not false, but Anthony would not think Loki would come back, and it would be a piece of information he could give to confirm his story, as well as the fact that he was _not_ still under Loki’s control. 

So, yes. He knew that he should leave, but… something kept him sitting on that couch, watching the creature which had once been the toaster scurrying across the floor. Perhaps it was foolish optimism, or perhaps it was a misplaced hope. But whatever it was, it had him stalling and fidgeting right up until he heard the familiar click of the front door. 

The sound of it had him on his feet, his hands slightly raised, fingers curled as he prepared to call his daggers. Of course, he could have left, he could have let his seiðr pull him someplace safe. But some part of him was _still_ stalling, that tempting thought of _what if_ still circling through his mind, stopping him from leaving—

And then, as if the Norns had _finally_ decided Loki deserved something good, Anthony stepped around the corner and into the living room. The moment he saw Loki, his lips curved into a relieved smile, and Loki’s hands fell down to his sides. 

“What are you doing here?” The question came out a little harsher than Loki had meant it to, and he had to draw himself back a little. 

“Don’t worry,” Anthony said, holding up his own hands as if in surrender, even though his smile remained. “I haven’t told anyone about this place,” he promised. “No one except JARVIS, and he only knows because I flew here in the suit. None of the Avengers will be able to find us here.” 

“I thought you would be with them,” Loki said, frowning. “Did they not want to question you about what happened?”

“They can wait,” Anthony said, taking just a few, slow steps forward– his expression suddenly a little unsure. “I, uh, had something more important to tend to.”

Loki’s breath caught. “And what was that?” he whispered. 

“Well…” Anthony reached out with one hand– though they were still yards apart, the gesture was clearly inviting. “I _was_ promised a victory kiss. I’m here to collect.” 

With those words, all of Loki’s hesitation shattered like broken glass. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, and his hands came up to cup Anthony’s cheeks in the same moment that he crashed their mouths together in a searing kiss. 

Their lips slotted together so easily, as if this were their thousandth kiss rather than only their second, and yet it was everything that their first kiss should have been. It was urgent without being rushed, passionate without losing its softness. They kissed like they had been waiting forever, and yet the touch of desperation didn’t ache– it felt like something deep had come alive and was electrifying every nerve in Loki’s body. And when they parted to chase after their breath, Anthony whispered two words against Loki’s lips. 

“My _Loki_.”

Something so simple should not have sounded so perfect, but those two words sung through the air and made Loki feel light. Hearing his name, rather than a title, falling from Anthony’s lips in such a moment… it was as if _that_ was what Loki needed to be able to believe that everything up until that moment had been worth something. 

“Anthony,” he sighed, leaning back just enough so that he could hold Anthony’s gaze. 

“Loki,” Anthony said again, his eyes bright. “Come back with me. _Stay_ with me.” 

And in that moment, there was nothing that Loki wanted more in the world than to be able to say yes, but… 

“I can’t,” he whispered. “The Avengers—”

“Know what you did,” Anthony interrupted. “I followed you straight away, but I’ve been talking to them over the comms the whole flight, _and_ I had JARVIS explain everything to them yesterday while we were putting the plan into motion. He set the whole thing up, you know, and they’ve all agreed that if you come back with me– they’ll treat you the same as they did Barton. Better even, since—” 

“I wasn’t controlled like Barton,” Loki interrupted, lowering his gaze as a shard of ice cut through his heart. “I thought that you knew. I agreed to the plan, at least before I realised what Thanos intended to do after he had conquered Midgard. I am not a good person—” 

“I told you that I understood, Loki,” Anthony interrupted. “And you said that you knew what was done to me, and what I did. We’ve all been in situations where we’ve been made to do something we didn’t want to do, in one way or another.”

“Then it doesn’t upset you?” Loki asked, his tone disbelieving even though he ached to know the answer– hoped with every selfish bone in his body that Anthony wouldn't _mind_ , because Loki didn’t want to lose him. 

“Are you kidding? Of course it upsets me,” Anthony said– and Loki almost flinched back, except that Anthony lifted his hand to gently cup Loki’s cheek. “It upsets me that you were treated that way, that you had to go through so much. But you don’t have to worry now, okay? You’re going to be safe with me.”

Loki let out a breath, and leaned into Anthony’s touch. “I believe you.”

“Then you’ll trust me when I say that all of the Avengers have agreed to treat you fairly?” Anthony asked. “Since, you know, they all _know_ that you’re the one who _stopped_ this invasion from happening.” 

“I wouldn’t have done that without you,” Loki pointed out. “If you hadn’t pretended to be under my control, I wouldn’t have had an excuse to stall the invasion.” 

“Perhaps,” Anthony allowed. “But can you stop trying to change the– wait. A. Second. If I hadn’t… you mean you knew? You knew _this whole time?”_

“You didn’t think that I might notice that you were not under my control?” Loki asked, amused now. “One does generally need to know that they are controlling someone, to be _able_ to control them in the first place—”

“You know, that isn’t necessarily true but I’ll give it to you in this scenario,” Anthony muttered. Then he groaned. “ _Damn._ Are you telling me that I could have argued with you more?”

Loki decided not to comment on that. “Why did you think it would work?” he asked instead. 

“I was just stabbing in the dark, honestly,” Anthony groaned. “I had to try _something,_ and I thought that if there was the slightest chance of being able to even just stall you a little longer, I needed to take it. And even if that didn’t work, then it might keep me alive long enough to think of something else. But I can’t believe I didn’t even think about that.” 

“It wouldn’t have worked, anyway,” Loki said, his tone comforting even as his lips curved up into a wicked smirk. “You are a terrible actor.” 

Anthony actually _whined_ at that. “Don’t you have _anything_ nice to say?” he asked. 

Loki pretended to think for a moment. “I suppose you are far quieter when you’re trying to pretend you’re my puppet.” 

Anthony groaned. “Oh, that’s harsh,” he muttered. “But seriously, quit trying to change the subject. Avengers. Opinion. Go.”

Loki sighed. “Are you sure that it is all of them?” he asked dubiously. “Even Thor? I did not part with him on good terms. I know he believes that I tried to steal the throne from him, and unless my mother explained the truth—”

“Thor just wants his little brother back,” Anthony cut in. “And, look, I didn’t tell them exactly what happened to you– hell, you haven’t told _me_ exactly what happened, but… I know enough to _know_ that if you choose to tell him, he’ll be on your side one hundred per cent.”

Loki glanced away at that, something clenching in his gut. He wasn’t sure what to think, because… well, he _did_ believe Anthony, but Thor had not seemed particularly understanding back at the Pentagon. Then again, Loki _had_ just let an army of Chitauri into Midgard, and even if he and Anthony had purposefully chosen the ‘worst’ of their plans to ensure that the army would be destroyed as efficiently as possible, it didn’t exactly _look_ good to anyone not privy to the whole story. So, yes, he couldn’t help but doubt Thor’s intentions.

“Hey,” Anthony said, gently stroking Loki’s cheek and waiting until Loki met his gaze once again before continuing. “Can I tell you something?”

Loki gave a small nod.

“Okay, well… you know, the whole time that we spent in this cabin– the whole time that I’ve spent with _you_ , I was dying to ask you why you did it,” Anthony said. “ _Why_ you attacked us, and why you killed those people in Germany. Because the person that I got to know is nothing like that tyrant, and I wasn’t able to compute the two together. But then I worked out a fair amount of it, I mean, you dropped enough clues, and I was actively _trying_. I am pretty clever, you know.”

“I know,” Loki said, a little worried as to where this was going. 

“And then,” Anthony continued, his voice softening a little. “Then you told me what happened, and I realised… that even then, it didn’t really matter, not anymore. Because I _knew_ you, and I knew that you must have had some reason, and whatever it was– I trusted it.”

“And now it’s my turn to trust you?” Loki asked– and had it not been for the way Anthony’s words had made him feel a little breathless, the only thing going through his mind would have been confusion over that fact that Anthony didn’t already know just how much Loki trusted him. Had it not been apparent, when Loki had laid his life – his _future_ – in Anthony’s hands?

But then Anthony shook his head, and he took both of Loki’s hands in his own. “I just want you to know that there’s nothing in the world that would keep me from trying to help you right now,” he said gently. “And that even if you _don’t_ want to come with me, even if you decided to stay in this cabin for the next five years, then… I guess I’ll just buy the damn thing, and then I’ll stay right here with you.” 

“You wouldn’t survive living here for five years,” Loki teased, amusement bubbling to the surface as he found familiar footing at Anthony’s cheek. “You would go mad from boredom.”

“Nah, I’d be okay,” Anthony said, shrugging his shoulders– though his eyes remained entirely serious as he added– “I mean, you’d be here, right?”

That warmed Loki all the way through– but even so, he arched a brow in disbelief. 

“Well,” Anthony allowed. “Maybe I’d need you to help me build a workshop in the basement. But _then_ , I would definitely—” 

Loki cut him off by bringing their lips together once more, kissing Anthony with the kind of happiness he knew was going to last. 

Of course, the conversation was moot anyway, because if Anthony was that sure, then… maybe it was Loki’s turn to take a leap of faith and follow Anthony into the unknown, just as Anthony had done with him at the very beginning of all this. 

There were other reasons why he shouldn’t, all the reasons he’d had for agreeing to the invasion in the first place. He knew that the Other’s threat would not just dissipate, knew that Thanos would not be happy with him. But Thanos would no longer be able to get his hands on all of the Stones, no matter how hard he tried. There would be no _need_ for the safety of the cells of Asgard. 

That, of course, just brought to mind that likelihood of _Odin_ still wishing to lock Loki away, but Loki believed Anthony when he said he had enough influence that there would no longer be any problems about Midgard accepting him. And if Loki had a haven here, and if Thor truly was on his side, then… perhaps there was a chance that Odin could be convinced to grant him a punishment in the form of banishment, rather than imprisonment. 

The more Loki thought about it, the more sure that he became, because all of those things just added up to a very tiny portion of _why_ he wanted to stay. And when Anthony asked his question again, Loki could no longer see another reason to continue stalling. 

“So, what do you say?” Anthony asked. “Will you stay with me?”

“Yes,” Loki replied. “I want nothing more.”

And as their lips came back together for another kiss, Loki did not think that he could ever have envisioned a better outcome of his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck with us through this fic, we hope you enjoyed it!  
>   
> And, you can find all of the art for this fic on tumblr [here.](https://greenishio.tumblr.com/post/190325178152/art-for-the-fic-the-art-of-stalling)


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